The One You Never Knew
by SunnyStorms
Summary: Who you are, whom you love, and where your loyalties lie - Ginny Weasley had never thought all of that could change as a result of a single night. Her postponed wedding to Harry following a Death Eater prison break was supposed to be a mere set back to the life she'd always dreamed of. But driven by anger and pride, she makes a fateful decision that will upend her entire life.
1. Chapter 1: The Breaking Point

**Chapter 1: The Breaking Point  
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"Your stupid noble reasons won't work this time, Harry Potter!"

"Ginny, _please_, don't be like this." Harry dragged a frustrated hand through his already disheveled hair as he followed the angry redhead up the stairs.

At the landing, she spun and glared down at him. "We can't go on like this. I don't need you to protect me. I can take care of myself. You weren't the only one who fought in the damn war!"

The frayed edges of his patience only unraveled further. They had been rehashing the same arguments for nearly an hour. Why was she insisting on being so stubborn? He had plenty of reasons to back him up. Why couldn't she just _listen_?

With mounting frustration, he could no longer help shouting back. "You weren't supposed to be involved in the first place! If it wasn't for your mum, Bellatrix would have killed you."

"I—"

"And the night Dumbledore died, I saved you from Amycus, remember? And remember the Ministry of Magic? I knew it would be dangerous, but I let you come with me. And what happened, Ginny?"

He didn't think it was possible for her to look even more livid, but if this was what it took, then so be it. The price of a few hours of her anger was nothing. He would gladly pay it a hundred times over.

Hope rose in him when she seemed lost for words at last, but the moment passed, the intensity of her stare never once diminishing. She took a deep breath, and guessing her intended argument, he sprung to head her off.

"It _matters_, Ginny. You were the first one they targeted that night, and we weren't even dating then. When the fight broke out, you ended up with a broken ankle, and Luna had to help you out. Tell me, in all of your past run-ins with Death Eaters, when have you ever shown you could take care of them on your own? I'm sorry, but your infamous Bat-Bogey Hex isn't going to be worth squat when you're facing off against _psychotic murderers._"

He paled as he watched her reaction, rage and hurt twisting her face into a fearful visage. Too late, he realized his mistake. His words had been true, but they were too brutally honest to have won her over.

A strangled noise tore from her throat before she whipped around and bolted down the hallway.

He swore and rushed after her. "Ginny! Ginny, wait. You know that I don't mean—"

She stopped so abruptly that he nearly bowled her over. Her blazing eyes turned to face him, gold flecks in the dark irises flaring like embers of a stoked fire, her tone dangerous when she spoke. "You don't mean what?"

He let out an exasperated sigh as his hand reached out to cup her flushed cheek. She flinched back from his touch, but he persisted, meeting her eyes with an even gaze.

"I love you, Ginny, and I only want what's best for you. No one ever expects an underage witch to be able to hold her own against experienced Dark wizards. I know you see it as an insult to your pride, but it's not, Ginny. It's just the way things are, and we have to deal with it as it is."

The heat dissipated from her eyes only to be replaced by a wet sheen that drove him into a panic. He never knew what to do with a crying girl. Thank God Ginny wasn't normally prone to tears.

"If you love me..." She paused and took a deep breath as if to steady her voice. "If you really love me, then why—why does it seem so damn easy for you to leave me, _again?_"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Girls could be so dramatic sometimes. Instead, he moved to hug her close and softly kissed the top of her head.

"I've only been trying to tell you ten-thousand times already. The breakup doesn't mean anything. It will only be temporary, just until all the Death Eaters are rounded up again."

She pulled back and looked up at him with hardened eyes. "Harry, that could take _years_."

He met her gaze with an equally stubborn stare. "We have time, Ginny. Years and years ahead of us. You've just graduated, and I don't even have a full year of Auror training under my belt yet. Besides, I'll be gone most of the time for training in the next couple of years, so it's not like we'll be missing a lot of time that would have been spent together. Why are you so upset? You were fine when we had to breakup at the end of your fifth year."

She glared back. "That was because I thought it was something you _had _to do alone. You have no idea how furious I was to find out Ron and Hermione were going with you. I knew I couldn't feasibly join you anyway because of the Trace, so I didn't bother to fight you on it, but I bet that reason never even crossed your mind, did it?"

Confusion swirled in his mind. What was her point? Ron and Hermione wouldn't have accepted it any other way, and how could he have turned his best friends down after everything they'd been through together? Good thing too as he likely couldn't have done it without them. Surely his girlfriend had to understand all of that. "Ginny—"

"But forget it. It doesn't matter right now. The point is, Harry, that thanks to your fame, everybody knows we were supposed to have been married _yesterday_ if it weren't for the massive prison break at Azkaban a few days ago. Kind of hard to hide that fact, don't you think? Especially when every frigging wizarding publication has been speculating about our impending marriage since _last year_? A breakup isn't going to fool any Death Eater. I'll still be a target on top of having to act out your stupid breakup games!"

He could feel a headache coming on. Where on earth had she gone? The Ginny that would always staunchly back him on everything?

His tone was nonetheless firm when he replied, "Did you forget that with the right media spin people will believe just about anything? Lucius Malfoy got off scot free, for goodness' sake. The Death Eaters will be targeting whoever is closest to me, and my fiancée is going to be at the top of that list. So there is no way in hell I'm going to leave you in that spot."

When Ginny forcibly pushed him away, Harry realized that her anger hadn't abated at all. It had only been furiously simmering in the background, ready to boil over at any second.

This time, she only stopped once she had reached the doorway of their bedroom.

"If you insist on leaving me this time, then we're done for good. It's your choice." She had spoken so softly that he barely made out her words.

"_What?_"

"You heard me."

Harry could barely keep his voice calm. "That's ridiculous, and you know it. I love you, and I'll do anything to keep you safe even if I have to fight you on this. You're only letting your temper get away with you. We definitely won't be done just because of this, and once you've cooled down, you're going to come to your senses and realize just how silly—"

He never got to finish as she turned around and threw something at him before slamming their bedroom door shut in his face. The object bounced off his chest and clattered to the floor by his feet. In the dimly lit hallway, he could make out the glint of a tiny gold hoop sparkling with precious stones.

With another exasperated sigh, Harry plucked the engagement ring off the floor. A grandfather clock's heavy chimes echoed through the house, announcing the late hour. _Damn it_. _Robards is going to have my head._ He quickly pocketed the ring before dashing back down the stairs where he grabbed his cloak, checked for his wand, and headed for the front door.

He was going to be late to tonight's field training session, not having expected Ginny to take his decision as badly as she did. He'd always figured it was something she would understand. Her ultimatum, however, hardly worried him. They had barely ever fought before, and he didn't think Ginny could stay mad at him for long, certainly not over something like this. He'd seen her furious outbursts loads of time by now, mostly directed at Ron, but often not a whole day would have even passed before she was back to being her cheerful self. Her temper was something she needed to work on, but they would have plenty of time to make up later, and all would be well again.

On that thought, Harry stepped outside into the cool air of an early summer night and Disapparated away.

* * *

><p><strong>Author notes:<strong> The rest of the story will mostly be from Ginny's point of view with a lot more action coming your way. The story is canon-compliant for all 7 books except for the epilogue. As I've been able to outline the entire story all the way to the end, I hope to craft a tale where not everything is at it seems. Hope you enjoy! Please do leave a review and let me know what's working and what needs work. Thanks for reading. :)


	2. Chapter 2: A Sprung Trap

**Chapter 2: ****A Sprung Trap**

The thunder of the slammed door reverberated through the room. As its echoes died out, Ginny heard the rhythmic thumps of Harry's footsteps rapidly heading away from her. That too soon died away, and silence engulfed the ancient house once more.

She flung herself across their king-size bed, unable to breathe or even think. Her eyes stung, a sure sign of impending tears, but she squeezed them tightly shut, refusing to cry.

As expected, Harry hadn't come in after her. That wasn't his way, she'd come to learn. When she was upset, he tended to back off until she was ready to speak to him again. Most of the time she appreciated that; now was definitely not one of those times. Harry's reaction, or rather a lack of one, only further flamed her growing fears and doubts about their relationship—if it still existed, that was.

As she lay there, a million questions bombarded her.

Was she making a mistake, turning down the boy she'd spent six miserable years pining after? For that matter, what witch in her right mind would turn down a happily-ever-after with the handsome and brave Boy-Who-Lived? Or would she be an even bigger fool to wait for him, yet again?

Bugger it. Right now she didn't want to think about or feel anything at all. Focused solely on that objective, her next course of action became stupidly clear.

A few minutes later she had squeezed herself into a dark pair of Muggle jeans paired with a plain, modestly-cut black tank and a gray cardigan, dressed with the only intention of blending in. A pair of pumps and a black handbag finished her ensemble. She'd need Glamour Charms as well but would have to wait until she was past the wards prohibiting usage of magical disguises. The wards, recommended by Hermione, had been newly set up around number twelve, Grimmauld Place ever since the prison break at Azkaban.

As a standard precaution before leaving, she glanced through a window to check if anyone was about and was surprised to find two vaguely familiar figures in Aurors' robes stationed just outside the door.

"You've got to be joking," she spat at them when they barred her from even stepping down to the pavement. She didn't know them very well but recognized their faces as having been among the newly certified Aurors she'd met at the congratulatory party she'd attended with Harry just last week.

Unsurprisingly, they seemed startled by her acerbic tone. For Harry's sake, she had tried to maintain a polite persona for the public, one of constantly biting back inappropriate jokes and retorts. Right now though, she didn't give a damn about potential PR disasters.

The petite brunette Auror recovered her wits first and hastened to explain. "I'm sorry, Ms. Weasley, perhaps Mr. Potter did not get a chance to inform you, but he'd requested guards for number twelve for your protection when he is unable to be here."

"The building is already protected by a renewed Fidelius Charm. Why do you even need to be here?"

"Please go back inside, Ms. Weasley. We were ordered to make sure you did not leave the building—for your safety, of course. Or if you'd like, we could escort you to the Burrow."

Ginny gritted her teeth, her hands clenching into tight fists.

_Harry Potter, you are SO dead._

"Don't you Aurors have something better to do than babysitting?" she snapped. "Like say, rounding up those Death Eaters you let escape?"

The brunette seemed to be at a loss for words, forcing her shaggy-haired partner to pick up the slack. "You can rest assured that we are hard at work on the matter, Ms. Weasley, but the protection of high risk targets is also a priority of our esteemed office."

"Won't the Muggles suspect something with you two standing out here in the middle of the night?"

"You don't need to worry. We're charmed, so their gaze will pass right over us."

"Thought this all out, did you? And when is Harry scheduled to be back?"

"I'm afraid his training exercise isn't likely to conclude before dawn."

_Damn it._

She could see them both eyeing her nervously as she idly twirled her wand and contemplated her options.

There was a visible swallow from the male Auror before he spoke again. "Please stay calm, Ms. Weasley. We were told to use force if necessary in order to ensure that you don't endanger yourself."

His words sounded more like a plea than the threat they could have been had they come from a more hardened official.

She could _probably_ take them both on, given how hesitant they were at the prospect of potentially hexing Harry Potter's fiancée, but that would risk having an entire team of Aurors and Harry scouring all of England for her the rest of the night. Of course, that would be on top of the legal trouble she would land in for attacking the Aurors in the first place. Ginny was peeved, but not nearly upset enough to be irrational. Not yet, anyway.

Resigned, she turned to go back inside after shooting the Aurors a final glare and slammed a door for the second time that day.

Using the front door was now clearly out of the question. The Floo wasn't an option either because Harry had cut off access to the Floo Network as well, also in the name of safety. Flying by broom was a possibility, but it was risky; either the Aurors or Muggles might spot her leaving or returning. She could cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and exit from one of the windows if it wasn't for the blasted wards against spells of disguise.

Each possibility struck down was fuel to the angry fire blazing through her. When had her new home become a prison?

It was in the midst of her furious thoughts that inspiration struck. Rushing up the stairs, Ginny thanked Merlin that Harry wasn't Hermione. For once, Harry's tendency not to think things through was going to be a boon for her. Of course, he would've never expected what she was about to attempt, but Hermione wouldn't have left anything to chance.

Back in their bedroom, she easily found her quarry right where Harry always left it, hung on the inside of the wardrobe's door. As she took down his Invisibility Cloak, her conscience weakly protested, but it was quickly subdued by her anger at Harry. A quick test confirmed that the Cloak was indeed exempted from the wards against magical disguises, just as she had suspected.

Her next destination was the first floor drawing room, which overlooked the front of the house. Once there, she gently pulled back the curtain on the far-left window.

"_Muffliato_," she muttered with a wave of her wand before pulling back the window's latch and pushing up the lower sash, the old wooden frame squeaking in protest.

Cool night air wafted into the room as she covered herself with the Invisibility Cloak before leaning out to look down below. The Aurors remained stationed on either side of the front door, occasionally sweeping their eyes across the empty street. With the tip of her wand barely sticking out of the Cloak, she surreptitiously cast a Cushioning Charm on the ground below before stowing the wand in her bag and proceeding to the trickiest part of the operation.

With the Cloak pulled down low over her head and wrapped tightly around her, Ginny ducked through the window and stepped out onto the ledge outside. She oriented herself towards the front of number thirteen and simply stepped off into empty air. The Cushioning Charm did its job, allowing her to float gently down to the sidewalk with hardly a ruffle of the Cloak.

The Cloak hung long on her as she descended, effectively hiding all of her as she softly touched down on solid ground and immediately headed up the street, trusting the _Muffliato _spell to mute her footsteps. Her muscles tensed in anticipation of spells, shouts, and running footsteps directed her way at any moment, but none came. Only when she was able to turn up the next street did Ginny finally relax.

_Honestly, I've moved out of my parents' home and still have to bloody sneak out of my own house._ She would've laughed at the ridiculousness of it all if she wasn't so irked.

Now sufficiently beyond the wards, she proceeded to cast a spattering of Glamour Charms with practiced ease while remaining under the Cloak's cover, transforming herself into a plain Jane with mousy brown hair and eyes a subdued, forgettable shade of green. Such spells had become an indispensable part of going out without being hounded by the press and public alike.

Originally, she had only intended to stock up on alcohol at a nearby supermarket and get wasted at home. It was only natural to be wary, after all, knowing more than a dozen Death Eaters were about and likely out for revenge, even without factoring in her family background or her relation to Harry. Ginny, however, had always had a stubborn streak in her, particularly when it came to being told what she couldn't do for "her own good". There was no way she was going back to that prison of a house, especially after spending all that effort just to get out.

_I'll show him I'm more than capable._

After all, she rationalized to herself, with no all-powerful leader to back them this time around, those dirty snakes were more likely busy with running for their lives and saving their own tail. That was the Slytherin way, after all. Besides, she didn't look anything like Ginny Weasley at the moment, and she was sure they wouldn't be so stupid as to risk being recaptured only for a momentary thrill of attacking a random witch or Muggle.

With her mind made up, Ginny Apparated into Muggle London under the cover of the Cloak, to a busy district littered with pubs and nightclubs. After what had happened tonight, the hen do she'd hosted here two weeks before seemed a lifetime ago.

_Stop it. You came here to forget, not to reminisce._

She found her way to a narrow alleyway between two buildings and checked and double-checked that no one was in sight before whipping off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffing it into her handbag. As she wandered back into the main street to join the Muggle crowd milling about, she was glad that she was a bit underdressed for a night on the town. Hopefully, being next to all the scantily clad tarts, she would be ignored and left alone to get drunk in peace.

Ginny passed by the rowdier clubs with their blaring music before opting for a quieter pub up a side street. Picking one at random, she encountered a dimly lit interior that was a bit seedier than she would've preferred, but she parked herself on a stool at the bar anyway, hoping simply to rely on the burly barman to deter any problematic patrons.

She ordered a pint of lager from him to start, but found it to be lacking; she wasn't getting drunk nearly fast enough. Her anger was dissipating all too soon, only to be replaced by less desirable and more wretched emotions. She wondered briefly if she should've chosen a more raucous joint where the general din and deafening music would have helped to drown out her thoughts.

_Just don't think about it. Not now._

The phrases repeated themselves like a mantra in her head as she switched to straight whiskey, relishing the way the heavy liquor burned her throat raw. Twice she was interrupted by men sidling in next to her to chat her up, but they were waved away without too much trouble.

After some time, her head movements were starting to make the room waver before her.

_Am I drunk yet?_ She couldn't tell, so maybe she was. She also really needed to pee.

She meant to ask, "Where's the loo?" but it came out somewhat garbled to her ears. The barman seemed to understand anyway.

"To your left, down the corridor. Third door on your right. And take care now."

She got up unsteadily, grabbed her handbag, and stumbled in the direction he indicated. Her head felt woozy, rendering clear thinking impossible just as she had desired, but she wasn't quite at the falling-over-drunk stage yet.

_On the right he'd said. Or was it left?_

The meager lighting in the corridor might as well not have existed, for all the good it did. There was a sign on the door she stopped at, but she couldn't make out the words to be sure it indicated the loo, given the bad lighting and her currently dodgy vision. It was probably the right place though, if she had remembered the directions correctly.

Ginny tried the handle only to find the door was locked. With a bladder uncomfortably full, she knocked and then pounded on the door again impatiently when no response came.

Still nothing.

_Just my luck. Some idiot's locked it_.

It probably wasn't wise to do magic in a Muggle establishment, but Ginny didn't feel up to stumbling all the way back to get someone to unlock the damn thing. Besides, no one was around to see her anyway. So she fumbled for the wand in her bag, but it took several frustrated tries before she managed a successful _Alohomora_.

Finally, with a satisfying click the lock came undone, and the door cracked open, a brilliant light from within spilling out into the corridor. _Huh?_ She was sure there had not been even a hint of light seeping through the closed door at all.

She swiftly opened the door the rest of the way, only to be confronted by a bizarre tableau that was definitely not the loo. Whatever sparse furniture had been present—a dresser, a table, and some chairs—had been pushed to the perimeter. In the center stood three masked figures dressed entirely in black, looking as if they had come straight out of one of those Muggle heist movies that Harry liked so much. Except, these men had wands clutched in their gloved hands. On the floor between them, a young man lay on his side with his hands and feet bounded by rope. A ghastly cut had been slashed across one of his cheeks and a nasty bruise was swelling up around one of his eyes. He was almost too beaten-up to be recognizable, but there was something disconcertingly familiar about his shock of white-blond hair and the pointed features still apparent in his battered face.

All this she processed in mere seconds. In the same time frame, the room's occupants were taking in her abrupt appearance. The grey eyes of the man on the floor widened at her. Startled, the masked figures had taken a step back.

Time froze as they stared at each other before speeding back up again, and several things happened all at once.

There came simultaneous shouts from the masked figures.

"What the hell? How did you—"

"A wand! She's a witch!"

"Don't just stand there, idiots!"

"Run!" screamed the man on the floor.

At the same time, recognition clicked in Ginny's mind.

"_Draco Malfoy?_" she exclaimed in disbelief.

A split-second later, wands were being raised, but in her shocked and alcohol-addled state, Ginny moved too slow to dodge the trio of red and green spells heading her way before everything went dark.

* * *

><p><strong>Author notes:<strong>

Please be so kind as to leave a review. It's my first foray into this fandom so feedback, positive or negative, is especially greatly appreciated.

Thank you so much to the wonderful TheSecretAdmirer for taking on this story as a beta for me. She's amazing at it. Any wonky phrasing that remains is solely due to my own oddball preferences. I'd also like to thank ThornedHuntress for helping me tweak the first chapter.

A note on the magic used: I stretched the application of _Muffliato _beyond what it is explicitly stated to be used for in the books in that here it deadens any noise the spell caster makes to unwanted ears, beyond just speaking. Though that might possibly be considered canon as well because Harry notes in DH that a corridor was as hushed as if a _Muffliato_ charm had been cast over it.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: Lies and a Truce

**Chapter 3: Lies and a Truce**

Awareness of her body returned, and with it came agony. Sharp pain like the edge of a knife stabbed relentlessly against her skull. Muscles and bones ached as if they had been pulverized by Bludgers. A wave of nausea surged in her throat, but Ginny swallowed it back down to the stomach that churned and heaved, threatening to regurgitate it back up. Further along her body, a bloated bladder cried out for relief.

Foul smells assaulted her nose, reeking of stale alcohol, cigarette smoke, mildew, and piss. The taste on her parched tongue was of deserts, bitter and dry. When her eyes finally fluttered open, they saw nothing but darkness, and strain as she might, she could make out no sound other than silence.

_Where the hell am I?_

Her memory promptly played back the answer for her: A pub. The failed search for a loo. A bruised and battered Malfoy surrounded by masked figures. The sinister trio of lights in red and green hurtling straight towards her.

_Shite! Am I dead?_

Her earlier misery collapsed into the background as panic welled up inside her. She struggled to get up, only to plop immediately back down to the cold hard floor she had been lying on.

_Bindings__,_ she realized, the gravity of her situation sinking into her. She wasn't dead yet, but she was in some serious trouble; that much was for sure.

Ginny tried again to separate her limbs, which were bound with rope, ankle-to-ankle and wrist-to-wrist twisted behind her back, as if she was some pig intended for a feast. It was useless, but her efforts made her realize she wasn't alone. As she strained against the ropes, her fingers had brushed against soft skin and bony ridges. Recognition came instantly. There was undoubtedly another pair of hands bound to hers.

She glanced over her shoulder and let her eyes adjust to the darkness until she could just make out the form of another body. Given what she had stumbled on earlier, there was a good chance she knew who it was.

"Malfoy," she whispered, "is that you?"

A barely audible groan answered her. She waited in silence for a little while longer before looking about wildly, desperate for something to strike her with inspiration—any idea that might get her out of this damnable mess.

It was the worst of luck. Trust her to go drinking at a random Muggle pub and still manage to run into criminal wizards, probably Death Eaters, if Malfoy was involved. Anger washed over her then, momentarily overwhelming the mounting fear—anger at herself for having reacted like an idiot, anger at the fact that this incident was only going to infuriatingly prove Harry right yet again.

She wondered how long she had been unconscious. Were people searching for her? Even if they were, how in the name of all that was magical would they even know where to look?

Another groan, louder this time, disrupted the silence, jarring her from her thoughts. There was a rustle of movement at her back followed by a raucous string of swearing, startling her out of her wits.

"_Shut up_," she hissed, "Or are you trying to fucking draw their attention?" They were harsh words, but she didn't want to deal with their captors any more than was necessary.

To her relief, the swearing ceased and silence prevailed. In the darkness faces and shapes were no more than shadowy blobs, but when she looked back over her shoulder, she could just make out the general form of her fellow captive's head also turning to look at her. The silence didn't last for much longer after that.

"This room is fucking soundproof, moron. Scream bloody murder all you want. No one's coming, at least not until they're ready to finish you off." It was Malfoy all right—trust him to sound nasty even whilst tied up and beaten.

She tried to tell herself that he was just being a malicious jerk as always, but still her blood ran cold at his words. "Finish _us_ off, you mean. Or did they bash you so hard you forgot who they were beating up in the first place?"

"No,"—she could practically hear the sneer in his voice—"I'm actually worth something. That buys me a couple more days at least. You, however, are nothing but trouble for them. They'll kill you if you're lucky, or turn you into a slobbering idiot when they wipe your memory." He paused and chuckled mirthlessly before continuing on, "If you could pass for a wealthy heiress, that might postpone your doom, but who are we kidding? No witch from a prominent family would have been caught dead in a place like that. Who the hell are you, anyway?"

She could feel her head throb all the more painfully, the nausea still ever present. What had she ever done to deserve this? Shouldn't prisoners be banding together to plan their escape instead of gloating over who had it worse? Fat chance of that with Malfoy. She briefly toyed with the idea of making him eat his words by revealing just how much bargaining power she had, but this was Malfoy she was dealing with. She wouldn't bet a single Knut that he wouldn't use the knowledge to screw her over in order to save his own hide. Not to mention, she would be risking the lives of the other people who would be undoubtedly pulled into this if the Death Eaters found out who they had.

"You don't need to know," she spat hatefully at him instead.

"So you're a nobody, just as I expected."

Her wand hand twitched instinctively. "And you're a smug bastard as always."

"I assure you that I'm perfectly legitimate. And why shouldn't I be smug? It's not my fault you reek of inferiority."

She clenched her bound hands with barely restrained rage. "We'll see who's inferior when I hex you senseless before you even think to draw your wand."

"Right. You mean like you did earlier? Honestly, what kind of twit walks into a scene like that and just _stands_ there? If you had just—never mind, it's worthless now." He spat each word with disgust, the sneer in his voice seeming to have magnified tenfold. She wanted nothing more than to hear the satisfying smack of her fist colliding with his face. Still, the infuriating git continued to goad her. "Merlin, I bet you're one of those bleeding Muggle-lover types. That's probably why you were at that pub in the first place. Ha! Look where that's gotten you."

Not knowing where to even begin addressing the sheer asininity of his words, she settled for a simple, "Fuck you, Malfoy."

Like lightning, he jabbed back, "No thanks, I have far better tastes."

It was her turn to let loose with her own string of loud swears.

But he wouldn't leave it at that. "Real mature, and I hope you know you just proved my point."

"You should thank your lucky stars that my hands are currently restrained, or I swear to Merlin they'd be around your neck right this instant."

"So someone wants to kill me. What else is new?"

His voice had taken on a hard edge that made her pause. A dark blur of movement informed her that he had whipped his head back to face forward. She followed suit, turning her head away from him.

Silence reigned again. Resigned at least momentarily to her fate, Ginny began to work through all that had happened, mostly to keep her mind occupied from imagining all the potentially horrid outcomes of her little misadventure.

Just what had she stumbled into? Malfoy's words seemed to suggest an abduction for ransom. That would be the primary reason for the Death Eaters to target Malfoy, as they certainly needed the money. Every one of them was destitute now, their fortunes having been confiscated for reparations, and anything left in Gringotts or at their old manors would be too risky to access without alerting the authorities. The Malfoys would also be an appealing target because they weren't likely to turn to the authorities for help.

The Death Eaters would undoubtedly be motivated by revenge as well. What better way to pay the Malfoys back for their betrayal than by killing the heir once they got what they wanted? She couldn't help but think (rather uncharitably) that that wouldn't be such a loss.

However, something still didn't add up. Why would they have brought Malfoy to a Muggle pub? A more private and hidden location should have been preferable for holding a hostage. The only plausible explanation was if they'd captured Malfoy at the pub, but he wouldn't have gone there to begin with. She frowned, biting her lip. Unless it had been a prearranged meeting, which would mean...Her heart quickened at the implication. Despite slim chances of success, she decided to try and weasel the truth out of him, or at least attempt to get more information about the escaped Death Eaters. If she couldn't escape, it'll all be for naught, but that was a worry for later.

Not bothering to turn her head this time, she simply spoke into the darkness.

"Malfoy, what were you—"

"And here I thought you'd finally shut up."

She ignored his caustic tone and pushed on, "_I_ was at that pub to drink. Call me a Muggle-lover all you want, as it's not actually an insult, I don't bloody care. But what were you doing there to get smacked around in the first place? Or are you telling me you've had a change of heart about Muggles?"

"It's none of your damn business."

"That sounds awfully suspicious, given your family background and all. How do I know you weren't involved with the escaped Death Eaters? That's a major felony, you know, even if you'd just been double-crossed by them when I showed up." She was listening keenly now, ready to catch his lies.

"Was that a threat?"

"It's whatever you'd like it to be."

"As if I even care. It's not like you're going to make it out to tell anyone, anyway."

"If that's true, then why are you still afraid to tell me?"

"I'm not _afraid_ of anything."

She rolled her eyes at the blatant lie before remembering he couldn't see the gesture. He was about to break regardless, headed right where she wanted him to be. "Prove it, then."

Her confidence in trapping him faltered as the silence stretched on, but finally, he snapped, "Fine, but be prepared to be disappointed because it's hardly the damning truth you're fishing for. The reason's bloody simple—it was a shitty day and I needed a stiff drink to relax before going home after work."

"Right, and out of every other possibility, a Malfoy would pick a _Muggle_ pub to wallow in his misery."

"Shows how much you know. Tell me, where in Wizarding London would an ex-Death Eater be welcome? The last thing I wanted to deal with today was surly barmen or their bungling, dip stick patrons itching to pick a fight. By the way, unlike your miserable self, I wasn't wallowing, just having a drink or two to relax. Big difference."

It was strange to imagine the once-proud Malfoys as social outcasts; the idea had never occurred to her before. Though all three had been acquitted in the war trials, there was apparently still a limit to how much public affection Galleons could buy. _Serves them right_, she thought bitterly.

"You know there are such things as Glamour Charms, don't you?" she said smugly.

"I have nothing to be ashamed about," he growled. "There's no fucking reason for me to hide. And, just so you'll stop these ridiculous assumptions of yours, you should know that those masked men you saw were sure as hell not Death Eaters. Did you even look at the Muggle clothes they were wearing? Or those masks? Please, they were nothing but common thugs trying to make a quick Knut off the Malfoy heir."

"You expect me to believe that you ran into three other wizards who _happened_ to be at the same Muggle bar, and who, _on a lark_, decided to abduct you for ransom? Come off it, Malfoy. I'm not even half the idiot you take me for. "

"Of course you're not. You'd have to be ten times the idiot to not think this was a preplanned deal. You know, the kind where they stalk the target, waiting for the right opportunity? What kind of fool do you take me for, anyway? Do you seriously think my family and I would throw our lot in with the escaped convicts, given everything that's fucking happened?"

She opened her mouth, but promptly shut it when her brain caught up with her. Despite his insulting manner, Ginny had to admit Malfoy had a point. She really hadn't thought her suspicions through. The Malfoys' place within Wizarding England was already tenuous. They would have a lot to lose if they were caught collaborating with the Death Eaters now, and she couldn't think of what they could possibly have to gain. This was nothing like the breakout orchestrated by Voldemort to free his followers. These convicts were on the run, out-numbered and destitute, with no powerful magic to back them up. Besides, after their betrayal of Voldemort, no Death Eaters would trust the Malfoys again.

She supposed it was just too easy, due to the Malfoys' past deeds and their personal history with her family, to gloss over the fact that Malfoy's mother had actually lied to Voldemort, and in doing so, she saved Harry and turned the tide of the war. Lucius Malfoy, well, he was still pretty much a scumbag in Ginny's eyes, but Draco had lowered his wand rather than commit the murder which would have launched him right into Voldemort's inner circle.

She had been at his trial, after all. She'd been there for nearly all of the Death Eaters' trials, both to keep Harry company and to see justice served. She'd watched and listened as Draco confessed under Veritaserum everything he did and didn't do to forward Voldemort's cause, and afterward, though she still thought him a prejudiced git and quite the coward, it was clear to her and to the Wizengamot that Draco Malfoy was far from being a gung-ho, blood-thirsty, torture-happy supporter of Voldemort's regime.

For his nastiness to her, however, she couldn't help taking another dig at his ego.

"You know, Malfoy, going to a Muggle pub instead _is_ hiding."

"No, it's not_,_" he bit out. "I told you, I just didn't want to deal with it today. Even I have my limits. You try having Aurors breathing down your neck all the damn time. I can't even sneeze without people being up in arms. You have no idea what my life is like, so shut the hell up."

She knew denial when she heard it. It was funny to think Malfoy would have preferred some nefarious Death Eater plot to the sad reality of having to resort to drinking in Muggle pubs just to find peace. Against her will, she felt just the slightest bit sorry for him—which was such a ridiculous notion that had there been a window, she would've checked to see if the sky was falling.

"And don't you dare feel sorry for me," he said, as if he could sense her thoughts. "I don't need your damn pity. That's why I didn't want to fucking tell you in the first place."

Ginny decided it would be wise to leave that sore point alone for now. Instead, as another possibility occurred to her, she asked, "You're sure they weren't Death Eaters? It would be the perfect disguise for them to be dressing like Muggles at the moment . And they would have reasons enough to beat you up and abduct you for ransom."

"Of course I'm bloody sure. They practically lived at my house for over a year. Or are you suggesting you know them better than I do?"

"I'm just saying in case you hadn't thought about it."

"Please don't mistake me for you. I'm not a clueless twit."

And just like that, Malfoy quickly lost the few positive points she'd grudgingly given him.

"Why do you always have to do that?" she said in frustration.

"Do what?"

"Be so damn abrasive and insulting. It's like you're determined to make people dislike you."

He laughed bitterly at that. "I don't need to try, love. People are already determined to hate me, yourself included. Might as well live up to my reputation."

"Someone's got a chip on his shoulder. And don't call me pet names. That's just creepy coming from you."

He scoffed. "Would you rather I use something derogatory instead? Those are the only options, since you obviously don't even trust me enough to tell me your name and are too stupid to just make one up."

A retort was ready on her tongue, but really, what would that have achieved? They were going nowhere with all this squabbling. She obviously had to step up and be the better person, because Merlin knows they'd be long dead before the thought ever occurred to Malfoy.

"Look, can't you just put your nastiness aside for a bit? If you haven't noticed, we're on the same broom here. Even if I'm up first, surely with you being a smart arse and all, it's occurred to you that there's a good chance they won't actually release you once they get what they want. Let's stop wasting our breath and precious escape-planning time with all this bickering. You know, the whole 'two heads are better than one' and all that rot?"

"More like you'll just end up a liability."

Out of all the barbs he had hurled at her, that one actually managed to sting the most.

"Funny, you're just like Harry that way. Forget it. I don't even know why I tried. "

"Good grief, you wouldn't happen to mean Scarhead Potter, would you?"

Try as she might to maintain a scowl on her face, she was unable to help the tug upwards at the corner of her lips to hear Malfoy bristling even at the mere possibility of being compared to Harry; he really hadn't changed at all since their school days.

She didn't deign to reply, but her silence was enough of an answer for him. "I'm _nothing _like Pothead. How dare you even insinuate such a disgusting thing. And how do you know Potter, anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

"He's Harry bleeding Potter; who _doesn't_ know him?"

"That's not what I mean," he snapped impatiently. "You obviously know him personally. Though, judging by your comment and your lack of defense of him, he mustn't be in such good standing with you at the moment."

She nearly laughed at how his voice seemed to brighten at the mere prospect of that being the case. "What does it matter how I know him?"

"I need to know if I can trust you." He sounded almost serious for a change.

"Oh? You want to trust me now?" she said incredulously.

"Just answer the damn question."

"Fine, we're fellow Auror trainees," she lied. If this was going to get him to cooperate, she'd bite. "And you're right. I'm not his biggest fan right now because he keeps snubbing my abilities." That was nearly the truth.

"Until a few moments ago, I definitely chalked you up as the type to worship the Boy-Who-Got-Lucky like the second coming of Merlin, what with your Muggle-loving habits and all. We're a rare breed these days, you and I, and obviously I don't mean the Muggle part."

She snorted. If Malfoy ever found out who she really was, he'd probably die of shock.

"Though I hope earlier wasn't a display of your abilities. I would hate to admit that Pothead might be right." He was teasing now, more in jest than to cut her down, but it didn't fail to prick her pride.

"Like you did so much better! And you weren't even half as wasted as I was, or expecting the toilet and getting three armed criminals instead."

When he replied, it wasn't the defensive retort she had been expecting, but touched with the heat of self-anger. "I was foolish to have let my guard down."

He swore just as furiously as he had upon waking, only stopping when he finally had to take a breath. She half expected him to continue cussing up a storm, but instead he inhaled deeply and said, "Look, whoever you are, this has been an absolutely shitty week for me. Don't ask, I'm not going to go into details. And this night has taken the cake by being the shittiest of them all. I know I don't sound like it, but I'm hanging on by the end of my broomstick here, and, unfortunately for you, you've been present to take the brunt of my frustration. I'll be frank with you, it's not just my life on the line. So you'd better use that Auror brain of yours and come up with a better plan, or I'm liable to do something rash that might get us both killed anyway."

"Who else is in danger?"

"Who else would I actually give a damn about?"

The answer was obvious. She felt silly she even had to ask. "But why would your family be in danger? You're the hostage here. Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"I'm not worried about these bastards harming my family directly. Even if they were to try, I have no doubt they're too dumb to get past the wards, and my father and mother hardly ever leave the manor anymore. What I can't afford to do is to wait around and risk dying at their hands like some common cur. My parents need me, and they certainly don't need the extra stress of knowing I'm being held captive. I have to get away at all costs," he said tersely.

_At all costs. _ A shiver of trepidation shot through her back. She had to find a way to make sure she wasn't one of those costs. The question was how.

Now that she thought about it, being kidnapped for ransom was a threat Malfoy must have had to deal with since birth. Maybe there was something they could use from his past experiences, if any. She would just have to make sure to tweak whatever it was to include herself as well.

"Er...well given your background, I'm guessing you might have dealt with similar attempts before? If so, how were they handled then?"

"Like I said, I was being a bloody fool this time around." He sighed, betraying just a hint of how truly exhausted he must have been.

He would have hated to know, but she couldn't help the twinge of pity she felt right then. She too sighed, wishing that this whole ordeal would just be over so that her world would stop getting turned on its head.

"So…truce?" she said finally, determined to get him to cooperate. "You want to get out of here just as badly as I do, so let's stop with our useless bickering, and put our effort where it actually matters." He was a right git, but she had to grudgingly admit that he was a capable wizard. He'd managed to single-handedly get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts after all. For better or for worse, they were stuck in this together. Fighting would only hurt both their chances of making it out alive.

"I'm not incompetent, you know," she said, hoping to further convince him. "I'm an Auror in training after all, and I assure you I can best even the savior of the wizarding world when completely sober. Which I am now, by the way." She liked to think it wasn't entirely a lie.

He laughed at that. The sound had a bizarre musical quality she would have never associated with Malfoy. "Truce," he agreed, but then had to ruin it by adding, "but I reserve the right to point out any idiocy on your part if need be."

"Malfoy," she ground out.

"Pardon me, but it's hardly the time for tact when our lives are on the line."

Ginny bit down on her lip to keep herself from retaliating. That would only re-escalate matters, feeding an endless cycle of verbal blows. She once again retracted what little bit of pity she'd felt for him earlier—it was going to be a miracle in itself for them to make it through this without her strangling him outright.

Ginny had never before put up with so much crap from another person, but a potential life-and-death scenario would be the strongest motivator there was for anyone to reign in their temper. She consoled herself with the fact that she was merely taking a rain check. If they made it through this alive, she was going to mock, insult, and curse him blue six ways to Sunday. Some hexes would likely to be thrown in as well. Malfoy wouldn't know what hit him.

She grinned deviously, instantly cheered by the thought, and then got right down to business.

"All right then, wise guy, any ideas?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes: <strong>

Please let me know what you think of their characterizations. The action picks up next chapter, so stay tuned, and thank you for reading!

A huge thank you as always to my amazing beta TheSecretAdmirer for helping me wrestle this chapter into shape.


	4. Chapter 4: The Muggle Deathstick

**Chapter 4: The Muggle Deathstick**

The truce's effect was like the turning of a key. Locks sprang opened, tongues loosened, and layers of animosity and indifference fell away, revealing Malfoy's underlying agitation and resolve. Silently Ginny congratulated herself for successfully gaining his cooperation, but knew this delicate game of duplicity on which her fate depended was far from over.

The hostilities had more or less ceased, at least for now, so she turned her head to face him again, listening intently as he shared the extent of his knowledge about their monstrous dilemma. So far as he knew, their captors consisted of three wizards, one of whom was clearly the leader judging from the way he ordered the other two around. Immediately after she had been Stunned, the wizards had Apparated them to their present location.

"It was dark. The only light source came from their wands, but it was enough to see that we're in a small windowless room with only one door for an exit."

"Did you hear them say exactly where here is?"

"Nothing specific. The leader ordered his goons to take us to the warehouse, but no other details were mentioned. Wherever we are, it's probably far from that Muggle district."

She shook her head in disbelief. "How could they be so dumb as to fire three offensive spells in the middle of Muggle London? And to do it just days after the Azkaban break! They must have known law enforcement would have been watching like a hawk."

"I told you; we're dealing with common thugs. Besides, that's not all. Turns out their leader was under the Criminal Trace."

Her eyes widened at the implication. For one, it meant the leader was an ex-convict, either someone who'd finished serving his prison time or been released early; those were the only class of people who bore the Criminal Trace. The Ministry had instated the policy as part of its overhaul of the prison system to "encourage the rehabilitation of prisoners while helping to ensure the safety of the public." In other words, it was a threat to deter released criminals from recommitting crimes, which would've landed them back in an Azkaban already struggling to accommodate the growing inmate population ever since the removal of Dementors under the new government.

The Criminal Trace worked exactly like the Trace on underage wizards, except it was only triggered by certain spells, spells that a specially formed committee had decided no law-abiding citizens would ever need to cast. Their captors must have foolishly activated the Trace for Malfoy to have mentioned it.

He promptly confirmed her conclusions. "Both goons screwed up, actually. Your entrance must have startled them out of their wits, and they weren't that bright to begin with."

If their captors were stupid enough to have tripped the Trace in the middle of Muggle London, maybe their chances of escaping weren't so abysmal after all. But as she mulled over Malfoy's words, yet another nagging suspicion struck her.

"How do you know one of them was Traced?" she asked, trying her best to sound merely curious.

She should have known she couldn't fool him.

"How do you think? Curses were fired, and one screamed, 'I'm Traced, you idiots!' Is that enough proof for you?" he said irritably.

Ginny mentally smacked herself for the misstep. She needed his cooperation, not his ire, and exposing her distrust of him was a sure way to incite the latter.

When he spoke again, tinges of cruelty had crept back into his voice. "You ought to be dead right now. If the Stunner hadn't sent you to the floor first, you would have either suffocated or bled to death. What a loss _that_ would have been." He punctuated the statement with another one of his mirthless chuckles. "The only reason they haven't dealt with you yet is probably because they're busy right now trying to concoct some story to get the Ministry off their back. Let me also remind you that this means Harry Potter, the boy who snubbed you, just saved your arse again."

"What? What on earth does Harry have to do with it?"

"Are they just letting any brainless twit become an Auror these days? It's no wonder England is going to the dogs."

She groaned loudly in frustration, and Malfoy laughed in response, sounding impossibly smug. However, his amusement, though at her expense, immediately lightened the tension. For that fact she was more relieved than irritated. Thank Merlin they hadn't gone back to square one after all.

It struck her then what he'd meant about Harry. Hermione had proposed the Criminal Trace, but a political storm ensued over privacy concerns. The policy would have never passed without Harry's support, so in an indirect way, he'd saved her again. Damn it.

_Stop being so childish_, she told herself. There were more critical matters at hand than injured pride.

"What are we waiting for then?" she asked, glossing right over Malfoy's taunts. "If you're right that they're currently occupied, then there's no better time to try to escape. Maybe there's something in this room we could use to—"

"It's not the locked door we have to worry about," he said impatiently. "It's whatever guards are _beyond_ it. I heard a bit of their frantic planning before they Stunned me. The other two were ordered to soundproof the room and tie you up while the leader went to fetch guards for us. So even if they're away dealing with their Trace fiasco, we're still wandless, and no match for whoever's guarding us."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not that hopeless. We have the element of surprise, so we could either try to dodge and run for it or overpower them and steal their wands. However, that's irrelevant if we can't break out of this room in the first place!"

"Get it through your thick skull already. It's not the breaking out part that's the problem, and I'm not playing my trump card when the odds are so stacked against us—at least not until I have a clearer idea of what we're facing."

"What trump card?"

"The one that can get us out of this room, moron."

Merlin grant her the patience to deal with the insufferable git. It took several deep breaths before Ginny could reply without derailing the conversation into a barb-slinging fest. "You know, this would go a lot smoother if you didn't feel the need to insult my intelligence every other minute. My question was perfectly legitimate. What _exactly_ is your trump card? Did you manage to stash something on you that we could use?"

"Like I'd tell you. You'd probably botch it up somehow if you knew."

_Breathe, Ginny, breathe__. _"Fine," she bit out, "I don't bloody care how you do it, so long as you can get us out of this room. And I think we should go for it now. If we wait until the boss comes back to run the show, we might never get the chance."

"I say we wait for a better opportunity, at least until we get a better idea of of what we're facing out there. And just be grateful I'm even including you in my plan. Earlier, I'd resigned myself to wait until they came to get you, hoping they'd drop some information and take my chances from there."

That was exactly what she was worried about. "Still cowardly as always. Harry would have definitely gone for it." Her mind willed him to take the bait. She feared that the longer they waited, the worse the odds would become for her. If their captors showed up, Malfoy might just decide that it wasn't worth the trouble of trying to save them both.

Unfortunately, he didn't bite. "Don't you dare mistake me for the fool Scarhead is, the boy who rushes blindly into danger and gets saved by the seat of his trousers."

The cold steel in his voice made it clear he could not be swayed, and especially not by the torrent of retorts and swears boiling on her tongue. Ginny could no longer find the energy for such a pointless engagement, so she swallowed the scalding words before they could escape.

She whipped her head to face forward, tears of frustration prickling her eyes at the impasse. The feeling she hated most of all was the helplessness that now crushed her chest, making it hard to breathe. What could she do, though? Even if there was something in the room she could use, how could she find it in the dark while tied to someone who wouldn't cooperate with her? Her fate was in the hands of an ex-Death Eater who couldn't care less if she died, and there was nothing she could do about it.

_Damn you Malfoy. Damn you to hell and back._

Silence stretched between them, its heavy presence adding to the unbearable pressure on her chest. She lay there breathing shallow gasps of air, gradually slipping away, retreating into herself, into thoughts that turned black.

The Chamber. The Ministry. The Final Battle. The cruel inner theater of her mind replayed each scene relentlessly. Every moment of darkness and terror. Every instance of utter helplessness. Abruptly, the images stuttered and froze, but relief was short lived. Click. A new film played, one recently acquired, not yet blurred by time.

It showed her Harry's face, those startling green eyes. Once upon a time an eleven-year-old girl saw nothing in them but kindness and beauty. Now they turned heated, teetering between frustration and anger. From his lips, whose kisses drowned her in ecstasy, words like bricks were thoughtlessly thrown, each one etched with her every insecurity. Every flaw. Every moment of weakness.

He was the definition of a Chosen One, favored by the Fates even before birth. Always rushing bravely (though brashly) into danger, Lady Luck forever at his side. But who was she? Who was this pretty thing paraded on his arm, melting under the flash of a hundred cameras? She was an outside presence looking in, failing to recognize the hollow, smiling shell that bore her likeness.

Invisible. Once she was invisible, but he saw her now. Woman in body, but girl inside—someone to be protected all her life. But if she was always watching from his shadow, how could he ever truly see her?

The edges of her vision turned red. There was a roaring in her ears.

Harry appeared fully before her, but something was not right, and yet she could not pinpoint what it was. It eluded her in the slippery fish way of dreams. Something about the eyes, treacherous like a snake. Something she should not know, a knowledge that could destroy her.

A voice on the edge of her awareness grew louder, gathering weight, swelled and broke, hitting her with the force of a thousand Bludgers. She jolted back to reality, gasping in a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her lungs and throat burned as if she'd been running full out.

"What happened? What is the matter with you?"

She curled into herself, shivering. How long? How long has it been since it was that bad? Her Healer's words flooded back to her. _Dark magic will always leave a mark, I'm afraid__. __This one was designed to __strip you of__ your secrets__. __The more you suppress them__, the stronger __they become__. __You need to be__ honest with yourself Ginny. Be honest__. _She shook her head furiously as if the act could clear away the ghosts of her past. This was neither the time nor place for her to be having one of her episodes.

"Hey." It was Malfoy's voice, the same voice that had called her back. She was expecting his taunts and jeers, waiting for him to add insanity to the list of her faults, but they never came. Only then did she become aware of the fingers that tightly gripped hers. As if he too suddenly remembered, the fingers were hastily released.

After a beat or two of further silence, it was clear that they'd both decided the best way to proceed was to pretend the last several minutes never happened, which was more than fine with her. She already had enough to worry about. Once she was calm again, Ginny concentrated on the way forward, knowing she'd have to make do with Malfoy's course of action. However, she couldn't just give up.

They both spoke up simultaneously, but then froze at the metallic jiggle of a door handle turning.

"Play dead!" they whispered urgently to each other. She immediately squeezed her eyes shut before remembering to relax so that she didn't appear so obvious.

A cringe-worthy squeak of rusty hinges pierced the air and was followed by a thin, nasally male voice. "Yes, Boss. Understood, Boss. I'm checking right now."

There was a click followed by the tinge of red blooming across her closed lids as light filled the room. The owner of the voice must have been conversing with someone not present as she heard no other voices in response.

"They're still out cold. Nothing to worry about, Boss. They won't be giving me and Tank any trouble. Solid brick walls and steel slab of a door, they ain't going nowhere. Yup, I see it, a black handbag. Let's see...there's some clothing I think, feels kinda—no I don't see a wooden stick. Nope, nothing even close to one. Nothing else in here either but a wallet with ID and some cash. I'm 100 percent sure, Boss. Leave it then you said? Got it. Won't be a single quid missing. When are you expected to be back? All right, see you then."

Ginny could barely contain a gasp at what she was hearing. _Muggles._ They had Muggles for guards, and the half-wits who captured them had been both stupid and rushed enough to have left them her bag containing one Invisibility Cloak. Merlin knows why the wizards trusted them with Muggles, but she wasn't going to waste time questioning their stroke of luck. Blast it all! If only Malfoy had been brave enough to act, they could have jumped whoever it was the moment he entered and be running free by now.

A gruffer voice joined the conversation. "What did he want?"

"His men slipped up. They forgot to check the girl's bag for any potential weapons or a mobile when they brought the two here, so he asked me to look. Seemed strangely concerned about there being wooden sticks though, but he and his men have always been somewhat nutter. Who cares, right? Not when they're absolutely loaded."

"What are his orders?"

"It's a cinch. Just keep these two locked up until he and his men come back. He said it'll probably be a couple hours more. Also said if it comes to it, better they're dead than escaped if we value our lives."

"In other words, we're screwed if this goes wrong."

"What are you doing?"

She heard heavy footsteps coming closer.

"Checking the knots."

"You're too paranoid, mate. Tied up or not, they ain't going nowhere. And no one ever comes by here anymore, not even the tramps. This district's been abandoned for ages."

The ropes chafed painfully against her skin as they were tightened. She was sure a wince must have shown on her face.

"You promised me last time that we were done with them. Those men ain't normal. That explosion a few weeks back, remember? When the Pythons tried to cross them? No one should have made it out alive, and we see them the next night without a single scratch. Pythons' members have been disappearing ever since, and no one _ever_ messes with them and gets away with it."

"Relax, old man. This was just too good to pass up. They're paying us a ridiculous amount of money just to babysit some harmless brats. Though if it bothers you that much, you could just ditch and not get your cut. Fine with me."

The footsteps were now retreating.

"This is the last time. I'm serious, Ace."

The other Muggle laughed. "Admit it: You could never resist."

The squeaking of rusty hinges was followed by the door closing with a solid thud, and she could no longer hear their guards' voices.

Immediately her eyes sprang open, momentarily blinded by the light bulb directly overhead. Their guards hadn't remembered or hadn't bothered to turn off the light.

"Oh thank Salazar," said Malfoy, sounding almost breathless.

She was perfectly giddy herself as a viable plan quickly formulated in her head. "Listen, I got it. We—"

"Shut up. I need absolute silence."

"Listen to me damn it."

"Look, do you want to get out of here or not? If so, shut up and let me concentrate."

She bit her lips for the umpteenth time to keep from retaliating, realizing Malfoy was finally putting his so-called trump card into play. In the meantime her eyes roamed over their surroundings now that there was light to see by. Over their heads towered the metal frame of what looked like one end of a bed. No other furniture were in her line of sight, but there was a tiny additional space cut out of the brick wall where her body faced, crammed with a toilet and sink, though without a door for privacy. The entire cramped room appeared to have been designed as a holding space for hostages. She shivered involuntarily. Who knew what other atrocious deeds had been committed here.

To her impatient mind, minutes seemed to have passed and still there was not a peep from Malfoy or a slackening of the ropes that bound her. She'd just decided to risk his ire by asking him what was going on when his _Relashio_ broke the silence.

Her eyes widened. Wandless magic? _That_ was his trump card?

She felt the ropes against her wrists and ankle quiver but nothing more.

"_Relashio_," he repeated a moment later, louder this time, his tone more firm and assured.

The ropes came alive, sliding and twisting roughly across her skin before dropping away completely. Eagerly she brought her freed wrists forward, gently rubbing where the rope had chafed her. She sat up and glanced at Malfoy with grudging respect. The only people she'd known to be capable of controlling wandless magic were Dumbledore and Voldemort, not exactly your garden variety of wizards.

Malfoy had slumped onto his back now that his bound wrists were no longer in the way, eyes closed in his pale face, forehead beaded with sweat. The blood had coagulated, forming a thick crust on the cut across his cheek, while the bruise around his eye had darkened to a hideous, violent purple.

His recent ordeals had also marked his clothing. Though the quality of the material and the tailoring still screamed money, his white shirt and black slacks were now wrinkled and creased, streaked brown and grey with dirt and dust, and speckled here and there with rust-red spots of dried blood. Malfoy had probably never looked so disheveled in his life. Even his hair, which he'd always gelled back in their schooldays, was in disarray, the blond strands falling haphazardly in every direction.

As if sensing her stare, he snapped open his eyes and pinned her with his gaze.

She had never noticed how intense his eyes were, even as one of the pair was slightly obscured by the swelling of the surrounding skin. At that very moment, they were the stormy grey of thunderclouds about to break. Weirdly discomfited, she broke the gaze first and sprung to her feet.

When she looked back at him, his lips were tilted up in an infuriating smirk. She crossed her arms and glared. "I don't see why you were such a sissy, freaking out when you could do wandless magic."

Someone who looked as beaten up as Malfoy should've been stumbling about, but of course he still moved with nothing but fluid grace. Now standing, he loomed over her petite frame, a full head taller than her. At her words, a scowl had replaced the smirk.

"Don't be stupid. Controlling wandless magic is extremely difficult to do, and I've been at it for less than a year and only in the limited free time I had to spare. I couldn't have conjured wandless spells fast enough to counter wand-wielding guards." He sounded extremely sullen at having to admit that there was something he was incapable of doing. If her life hadn't been on the line, she would've spent a good long while mocking him for it.

"So now what?"

"Well obviously I unlock the door, and we sneak out. If they see us, then we run for it."

"Why bother with that in the first place? Just blast a hole in the wall."

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. "I could, except I'd like to get out of here _alive_. Do you ever think your plans through? What if I blast the wall and the whole building comes down? Or what if this room is actually in the middle of the building or several stories off the ground and the guards hear the explosion and come running? What then?"

Spontaneous plans were never her forte, but his reply had sounded oddly defensive. Ginny raised her own eyebrow defiantly back at him. "You can't even do a wandless blasting spell, can you?"

"That's beside the point."

She smirked at him before turning to search for her handbag. It had been left near the door, half of an Invisibility Cloak spilling from it as the Muggle hadn't bothered to fully put it back. With a flourish she brandished the Cloak for Malfoy to see.

"Well this should help. Look at what they were dumb enough to have left us."

His mouth lit up with a grin. "Muggle guards _and_ an Invisibility Cloak. Well this is going to be a lot easier than I expected. Guess you're not completely useless after all."

She glared at him. "Don't be so quick to underestimate people. That goes for me and our guards as well." The one named Tank in particular worried her. She remembered learning about tanks in her Muggle Studies class, and could only hope their guard had been named for comedic irony. "It might not have occurred to you, but without our wands, we're practically like Muggles right now."

He cringed at the comparison before reaching for the Cloak.

Her body abruptly reminded her of an uncomfortable fact. "Wait, Malfoy."

"Seriously, what now?"

"I need to use the loo first," she said sheepishly.

"What are you? Five-years-old? For Salazar's Sake, hurry up then."

"And don't look!"

"Don't be so crass. Why the hell would I want to?"

The next few minutes would surely go down as the most awkward she had ever endured in her life, having to do her business in the open with Malfoy standing merely a few feet away. Ginny was only too glad to get it over with and immensely relieved that there was at least toilet paper, however thin and water-stained, and a dingy sliver of soap.

"Okay, I'm ready to go."

Malfoy turned towards her with the Cloak already drawn around him so that only his head and a strip down the middle of his body were visible. She automatically rose on her tip-toes to yank it close at his neck, deftly fixing the invisible clasp she knew was there. It had been a nearly instinctive move on her part, a habitual act she had gotten used to doing for Harry whenever he dressed to go out, before she realized it was Malfoy she was doing it to. Suddenly she was much too close to those grey eyes widening in surprise.

"Er, sorry. It's a habit." She quickly backed away.

He eyed her strangely, apparently deciding not to comment and merely nodding as he held the cloak open for her.

She started to move forward, but abruptly stopped. "Why do you get to be in front?" she demanded. If they had to run, he would be the one assured of the Cloak's coverage, easily leaving her behind.

Again he raised that nauseating eyebrow of his. "I'm much taller than you. It'll fit better if I'm in the front. Hurry up and get under the Cloak."

"No! Why can't—"

"Now is _not_ the time to be arguing. Just trust me, damn it."

She snorted at the impossible order.

His hands sprung up to grip her shoulder. She tried to shrug him off, but his slender frame belied his strength.

"Look, I know what you're worried about, but this Cloak isn't meant to cover two people on the move. If we're lucky, they'll be completely oblivious and we can sneak past, but let's be realistic here. Our luck has been absolutely shite so far. They could hear us at any moment or catch sight of a disembodied body part and decide to give chase. Some other Muggles might run the other way, but I have a feeling these two have been working for wizards for a while. It might not even faze them. So once we have to run, it won't matter who has the Cloak. Neither of us can stay fully covered if we're running full out, and we'll be sticking close to each other anyway. So just go with it already before we run out of time!"

"Fine," she bit out. His reasoning was solid, but accepting it required an unsettling level of trust in him . Then again, what choice did she have? It was pointless to waste more of their precious time arguing.

His hands let her go, and Ginny ducked under the Cloak, dismayed at having to stand behind him with barely a breath of space between their bodies in order for the Cloak to fully cover them both. It was close enough that she could smell a hint of a woody cologne that still lingered on him despite everything he had been though.

She took a deep breath and reached for his hand. There was no way in hell she would let him take off by himself. To her surprise he met her half way, clasping her hand firmly in his own. How surreal and bizarre this all was, like she had stepped into someone else's life entirely.

"Listen," Malfoy said, his tone turning urgent, "_Alohomora_ is a much more basic spell, so I'll get it quicker this time. Stay close, and follow my lead. Got it?" As if for emphasis, he gave her hand a hard squeeze.

Her only response was an irritated huff of expelled air.

Seconds later Malfoy uttered his _Alohomora. _More seconds ticked by. Finally, she heard the click of the lock coming undone. The door was no sooner cracked open then there came that familiar gruff voice, instantly setting her on edge. "What the fuck?"

Just like that, the momentary luck they had stumbled on vanished.

With her view blocked by Malfoy's height, she didn't catch what he did next, but she heard a harsh gasp and the thud of a body hitting the floor seconds before she was being yanked by Malfoy through the partially opened door.

Her feet tripped against something solid just beyond the doorway, sending her plummeting towards the floor. Her hand ripped loose from Malfoy's grip; with a whisper, the Cloak's watery fabric slid off her, leaving her completely exposed.

Seconds before her face and skull smashed into the ground, she twisted her body to the side while whipping up an arm to cushion the side of her head. Shock and pain whiplashed through her at the impact, but there was no time to count her injuries as frantic shouts rang and echoed in the space.

"ACE! They got out! Where the fuck are you? Get here NOW. He's going to fucking kill us!"

She scrambled to right herself, only to be yanked back down. Her head whipped around to find the problem staring right back at her with his manic gaze.

Tank, the Muggle owner of the gruff voice, fully lived up to his name. His beefy hand was clamped around her ankle, squeezing it painfully; the other hand lunged for her other foot . She pivoted onto the seat of her bum to kick out at him harder in desperate hopes of wrenching herself free.

_OhGodsAndMerlinSalazarGodric. _Panic choked her throat; her kicks might as well have been insect bites for all that they fazed him. Malfoy was certainly gone, and she was doomed.

She was a fool, a complete fool to have trusted him.

Out of nowhere a squat bronze table lamp missing its shade floated into view and smacked her captor twice across the face . He released her instantly, reeling from the blow as the lamp crashed to the floor. She retracted her feet from the Muggle's reach, and then invisible hands had hooked under her arms, pulling her to her feet.

"Malfoy," she gasped, half with relief, half with disbelief.

"Shut up and run!"

A hand materialized to grasp hers, and then they were running full out.

The flooring was metal, clanging loudly with each of their pounding footsteps. They had exited the locked room onto a large mezzanine space, whose metal railing they now followed, heading for the stairs leading down. The sparse lighting from a handful of dingy light bulbs hanging above revealed a giant empty building looming up around them, marred with broken windows and cracked brick walls.

A random assortment of worn and mismatched furniture littered the mezzanine like a mad obstacle course. They skirted around a hole-ridden couch, leapt over a pile of broken bottles, pushed aside a pair of stools, and upended a little rickety table as they dashed for the stairs.

The Muggle voices echoing in the space spurred them on all the harder.

"I couldn't hear you through the door! What did you want? What the—Hurry, Tank! They're getting away!"

"You hurry up and get the gun, you bastard!"

_Gun._ Film scenes of exploding body parts flashed through her mind. Lesson names from Muggle Studies recalled: The Muggle Deathstick; Why Muggles Aren't So Helpless; What Wizards Have to Fear.

"Hurry," she cried, pumping her legs harder.

"No shit," gasped Malfoy.

Ginny had never been so thankful for her rigorous Quidditch training. All those wretched physical endurance drills might just end up saving her life tonight. She just hoped Malfoy was as fit as he had looked, despite being bruised and battered. At least for now, he was certainly keeping up with her pace.

Over the blood pounding in her ears, she heard the rapidly approaching clang of the Muggles' footsteps.

The mezzanine narrowed into a long passageway before they reached the stairs at last. They clattered down the steps and pivoted around a landing. Down again, pivoting around another landing. After yet another flight of stairs, they finally reached the ground floor.

She whipped her head around, locating the nearest exit and realizing it wasn't close at all. There was no need to point it out. Malfoy was already tugging her in that direction. Her stomach plummeted when they neared it.

The door was hideously locked with a dozen various latches and bolts. Malfoy's visible hands pounced right away at the chain at the top. She dived to start from the bottom.

Slide. Click. Snap. Rapidly they came undone, but the last bolt remained terrifyingly stuck, rusted shut.

Malfoy slapped her hands away. Ginny let him have his try, too panicked to be indignant.

She glanced back at the stairs behind them and shook at the sight of Tank's massive bulk already hurling down the last stretch of stairs. She looked further up and felt the blood coursing through her turn to ice. The other Muggle had stopped at the higher landing, a pale skinny man, and in his hand the barrel of a gun stared sinisterly back at her. He was taking aim.

She spun back to face Malfoy who had worked the bolt to within a quarter inch of freedom. Her hands leapt to cover his. They yanked it free as a deafening crack split the air.

Pulverized brick dust rained down on them as Malfoy wrenched the door open, shoving her through. Another sharp, ear-splitting crack ripped through the air. The slam of the door cut off its ringing echoes.

She found herself outside, in an empty alley, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Malfoy?"

Shit. Had he made it out?

She whirled around and lunched for the door handle. Her hand collided with a solid invisible bulk instead. Relief washed over her, but proved to be premature as she yanked her hand back, startled by a sudden sensation of wetness.

Her mind screamed at her to get going, but all Ginny could do was stare and stare at her own fingers, glowing slick and bright with blood.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

Please do let me know what you think of the story so far. I'm always looking to improve.

And a big thank you as always to my beta TheSecretAdmirer.


	5. Chapter 5: Broken Things

**Chapter 5: Broken Things**

Second by distressed second shuddered past until a gruff, agonized _Colloportus_ from Malfoy broke the silence in the alley, jolting Ginny out of her stunned stupor.

She pried her eyes away from her fingers only to find a crimson splotch blooming in midair like a horrific flower, nullifying the Cloak's invisibility. The stain grew more massive by the minute. Nausea threatened to resurge in her throat, but she swallowed hard to keep it at bay. She couldn't imagine how Malfoy had managed to concentrate past the pain to execute a Locking Spell. Perhaps the shock had not yet worn off.

He staggered forward, bumping into her, and she flung her hands out to stabilize him, cringing at the feeling of her blood-slicked fingers sliding over the smooth surface of the Cloak.

"What. The. Hell?" he rasped, each word punctuated by a harsh gasp for air.

Ginny scrambled for a succinct way to explain. "Th-they shot you with a gun. It's a long-range Muggle weapon, fires tiny metal projectiles that can rip through skin and bones."

Her hands fumbled for the edge of the Cloak to see where he'd been hit. Peeling it back, she found him half bent over, his left hand tightly gripping his right shoulder, but there was no blood down his front. Her stomach heaved sickeningly when she pulled the Cloak farther back and spotted the soaked mass of his shirt centered on the upper right of his back. "Oh Gods. You're losing so much blood."

She frantically shrugged off her cardigan, bunched it up, and attempted to apply pressure to the wound.

"Fucking Muggles," he hissed, muscles clenching from the pain.

For once, she couldn't manage a lick of indignation on the Muggles' behalf, not for these thugs, anyway.

They both jumped at a sudden furious pounding from behind the door, a sharp reminder of their precarious position. Undoubtedly, their guards would soon find another way out.

"Can you keep going?" she asked in a shaking voice, petrified to hear his answer. If he couldn't go on, then she was stuck as well. He might be a hateful bastard at times, but she could never be so callous as to leave him behind, especially not after he'd come back for her.

"I'm fine. Let's just get going," Malfoy forced out through clenched teeth. He straightened up, and she hurriedly unraveled her cardigan, using the sleeves to tie it taut in what was probably a terrible makeshift bandage. However, there wasn't time for anything more. He grabbed her right hand with his left just as she yanked the final knot tight and pulled her towards the street.

They ran down the excruciatingly long alley, flanked on both sides by the looming walls of old warehouses. Where the alley met the street, they made a simultaneous decision to turn right.

Another explosive crack rended the air. Ginny gasped and stumbled around the corner of the building. It felt like a white hot poker had sliced across the outer skin of her upper left arm.

She felt Malfoy slow down for her, which was ridiculous considering his current state.

"Are you—"

"I'm fine," she bit out, echoing his earlier words. Gritting her teeth, she sped back up. Her arm continued to burn, but it was far from an incapacitating pain.

Overhead, dark brooding clouds smothered the sky. Without the moon and stars, the only source of lighting came from the occasional streetlamp buzzing sporadically on and off. Many others along the street had long burnt out.

They ran on towards brightly lit areas in the distance but could not afford to head straight there. Ginny directed them to instead take every possible turn that cropped up, alternating left and right to keep them from circling back around while putting as many dilapidated buildings and crumbling walls as possible between their bodies and the Muggle gun. Malfoy went along with it, not saying a word, but she didn't know whether it was because he agreed with her or if he was in too much pain to argue.

They hugged the shadows as they half ran, half stumbled along, but she feared it was for naught. Their gasping breaths, their pounding hearts, and the scuffles of their shoes against the uneven pavement seemed loud as thunder against the deathly silence of their surroundings. Not a single engine revved, a car honked, or a door slammed. No conversations or strains of music were carried on the nonexistent breeze. The still air smelled of decaying things mixed with the metallic stench of Malfoy's blood.

For a handful of turns, the only noise was of their own making, sparking a tiny hope in her that they'd managed to evade their jailers, but then in the distance came the shouts of human voices. The sound would fade away only to reappear several minutes later, sounding ever closer and driving another spike of terror through her core.

She accelerated their pace, but Malfoy began to falter. His breathing had become increasingly more ragged. Ginny wasn't sure if it was adrenaline and sheer willpower that kept him going, or if it meant the injury was fortunately uncritical. They didn't have the leisure to find out either way. She could only hope that his body's natural flow of magic was enough to stem off any major damage until they could reach a Healer. In the back of her mind, she vaguely registered that this was probably the first positive thing she'd ever wished for a Malfoy.

_Please, _she prayed to any deity that might listen, _let us both make it out alive_.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the rundown structures around them. Torn fences and boarded-up windows glowed silver-white in its fleeting light. Only a few seconds later, the air exploded with the boom of thunder. The shock from the noise, so similar to another deadly sound, nearly tore her heart from her chest.

By the next bolt of lightning several minutes later, they'd hit a dead end. The street they'd turned on to only led to a collection of derelict concrete buildings enclosed by a tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. They backtracked and started to run towards the next side street when shouts came their way, close enough to make out distinct words.

"Where the fuck are they?" The gruff voice unmistakably belonged to Tank.

"Can't tell. The Tracker's going bonkers again."

"If you would just stop smacking it."

"It'll start working again soon enough. They're definitely close by, but damn, this is taking much longer than I thought. Check down that way, and if you can't find them then head right back to base to explain things if I don't get back in time. You know what happened to Pete and John. At least one of us will be killed without even getting a chance to explain if Boss thinks we tried to run."

"_Fuck._ I knew this would happen."

"Get going or we're dead."

Panic tightened its hold on her chest. Behind them was a dead end, but the voices had come from ahead. Any way forward might lead them straight to their captors. And what the hell was that about a Tracker?

The sound of running footsteps came closer.

There were no hiding places within reach as everything in this section was enclosed by tall concrete fences. Only one other option sprung to mind, which Malfoy acted on immediately. He pulled her with him until they were right against a concrete wall. A second later, he had hooked his left arm around her waist, yanking her to him until her entire torso was pressed up against his. He relinquished his hold, and then she felt the Cloak closing around her. It was like being trapped in a bloody, uncomfortable cocoon. She became disturbingly aware of every toned plane of his body. Hastily, she pivoted to face forward, a less awkward position that still allowed the Cloak to fully cover them both.

Not a moment later, lightning flashed. As the thunder roared, Tank's hulking form came barreling around a corner and down the street, headed right towards them. They both inhaled sharply and waited, muscles tensed.

He was thirty feet away and closing in, looking about wildly. They could only hope the blood stain that would give them away blended adequately with the shadows of the wall. Fifteen feet away now. Ten. Five. She curled her hands into fists, ready to lash out, but he blew right past them.

The relief came almost as a shock, like a bucket of ice had been poured on her. They waited, knowing he would reach the dead end and turn back around. He ran past them a second time and then turned out of sight, back the way he came.

Was that it? Was he now heading back? Did they have one less pursuer to worry about? She listened hard for a beat longer. "Let's go," she whispered when no more voices or footsteps could be heard. They had to get away, get to help, Muggle or Magical, before whatever Tracker device the other Muggle had started functioning again.

Hand in hand they ran back up the road, taking the side street opposite the one Tank had taken. They passed more decrepit buildings before the path curved left and turned into a narrow alley, faintly lit by a single streetlamp. It was another dead end, but this one was only blocked by a stone wall that came up to her neck, easily climbable. For her that was. She hadn't fail to notice that Malfoy had avoided using his right hand since being shot.

However, even considering his injury, doubling back would increase their chances of running into the Muggle with the gun, whereas beyond this dead end, bright lights glimmered directly ahead, though still some distance away.

"Can you climb it?" she asked, hesitating at the entrance to the alley.

"Go," was all he said, already tugging her forward.

Without prompting from her, he dropped her hand as they neared the wall. She sped up and leaped, planting one foot on the wall to further boost herself upwards. Her hands latched firmly on to the top of the wall, and she pushed down hard with her arms to pull her body up until she could manage to swing one leg over. The rough stone surface dug into her hands, and she hissed when the pain in her left arm flared up again after having dulled to a throb.

Now perched on the wall, straddling it, she could see the street that ran parallel to the wall on the other side. To her relief, just across this street was another road stretching away for perhaps a dozen blocks or so before vibrantly lit signs began popping up one after the other. They were almost out of this.

She looked back and saw the Cloak's blood stain still hovering in front of the wall. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm _fine_."

_Sure you are, stubborn arse._

She turned back to her own efforts, swinging her other leg over the ledge so that she fully sat on top of the wall. At the sound of Malfoy swearing, Ginny turned her head to check on him, but before she could say anything, a solid force on her back pushed her forward. She landed on the other side on all fours, too surprised to have yelled or cussed.

That proved fortunate because the next thing she heard, coming from the other side of the wall, was a chillingly familiar nasally voice.

"Don't fucking move, or I'll shoot."

Ginny froze, still crouched close to the ground. She willed that Malfoy would listen, though with that wound on his back, she doubted he would underestimate them now.

"I know you're here. You have some crazy way of blending into the background, but too bad the blood stain gives you away. You can't hide from the Tracker either."

_Would nothing go right for them tonight? _A plan. She needed a bloody plan, but anything she might do could easily spook the Muggle into firing the gun. _Damn it._

"Show yourself, or I'll start shooting. You have until the count of three. One...two..."

Her heart was beating so fast, it was practically vibrating. _Don't be stupid, Malfoy. Please do as he says._

"Thr—By God, it really does exist. That's fucking insane."

_Think, Ginny, think._ On the other side of the wall, she heard footsteps coming closer.

"Give it to me. No, don't move. Just ball it up. Good, now throw it—you _bastard_!"

Something soft fell on top of her. She recognized it immediately and draped an unbloodied part over her upper body just as the gun went off.

_NO, it can't be._

She stood up on shaking feet and nearly fell back down with relief to see Malfoy still standing just across the wall from her, slightly trembling but otherwise showing no signs of having been hit. Her eyes shifted to the Muggle named Ace, who stood to the far left in the narrow space between the wall and the end of the building flanking the alley. He must have come from around the building on Malfoy's side, which would explain why Malfoy saw him before she did. The man was nearly as tall as Malfoy and so skinny he was almost a walking skeleton. Long dark hair hung in clumps around his pale face, which was presently pulled back in a snarl.

The man took several menacing steps forward until he was fully in the alley, standing only about four feet from Malfoy. "That's the only warning shot you'll get. Don't fucking mess with me, boy. Now where's the girl?"

"She's not here. We split up." His voice was unnervingly calm for someone with a gun pointed at his chest.

While keeping his weapon in his right hand trained on Malfoy, the Muggle brandished what looked like a watch on his other hand, except the clock face was more like a half-sphere, glowing alternatively red and green like a Christmas light. A gut feeling told her it was a magical device even though she'd never encountered one like it.

The Muggle scowled and shook the hand wearing the Tracker at Malfoy. "This clearly shows two people are here. If you're listening, girl, I swear I will pull the trigger at the slightest movement I see or hear, so don't even think of trying anything."

The fear was paralyzing. While she would never hesitate to face a foe even at risk of death, risking someone else's life was another matter entirely.

"It looks broken to me," said Malfoy, almost conversationally as he gestured towards the Tracker.

The Muggle didn't buy it for a second. He grinned instead, the toothy grin of a predator closing in on his prey. "Well if she's not here, then she won't protest when I put another bullet or two in you, will she?"

Ginny had to bite down on her lips to keep from yelling out. She had no idea what Malfoy expected her to do when he threw her the Cloak. Every possible plan was just too damn risky when all it took was one squeeze of the trigger to end a life. She'd rather face a wand-wielding Death Eater any other day of the week than a Muggle with a gun ever again.

"I might die if you did that," said Malfoy. This time she heard the tiniest of a quiver in his voice. "Trust me, it's in your best interest to keep me alive. I'm worth more than you can imagine in your wildest dreams."

The Muggle shook his head in mocking sadness. "No good I'm afraid. While a dead body can still serve as hostage, I can't afford to bring only you back. Better call for her quick. Are you listening girl? I want you to come stand by him. If I see or hear anything near me, I'll shoot him without hesitation, so don't even think about it. You have until the count of three to show yourself, or I'll put another bullet into your friend here and a bullet for every second after that."

She watched Malfoy's face pale even further, his skin turning almost translucent, but he continued to stare at the Muggle, rather than at the gun, and said not a word more.

"One..."

No way around it. Better that they both give in for now and try again later then for it to end here.

"Two..."

She took a deep breath and stepped forward along the wall so that the Muggle would be able to clearly see her.

"Thr—"

"Stop!" she yelled and threw back the Cloak.

The Muggle flicked his eyes to her, gleaming with triumph. In that fraction of a second, Malfoy moved so quickly, it was like he'd Apparated. One moment he was a good three feet from the end of the gun, the next he had lunged, ducking under the muzzle and latching his left hand around the Muggle's right wrist, pushing it upwards. The gun fired, its explosive bang amplified in the narrow alley. From somewhere above rang the sound of shattered glass.

Ginny had instinctively ducked at the noise, but kept her eye on Malfoy. At the same time he'd grabbed the Muggle's wrist, he'd slammed his foot into the man's gut. The gun clattered to the ground as the Muggle reeled from the blow, gasping for air. Malfoy kicked backwards, and his foot connected with the gun, sending it spinning across the asphalt into the shadows behind him.

She rushed along the wall towards the pair, no clear plan in mind, knowing only that she needed to do something. Malfoy didn't wait for the Muggle to recover but closed in as the man was half-doubled over. He gripped the man's shoulders in both hands and brought up his knee in a slice diagonally upwards. It caught the man across the chin, snapping his head sickeningly to the side. Malfoy released the Muggle and stumbled back. His left hand clutched at his right shoulder, and an agonized cry tore from his throat. Ginny climbed back over the wall as the Muggle crumpled to the ground. With a thud, the back of his head smacked against the hard asphalt. They both watched his supine body, tense, but as the seconds ticked by, he continued to lay there, utterly still.

Finally, she expelled the breath she'd been holding and looked over at Malfoy. By then he'd squeezed his eyes shut. Beads of sweat trickled down from his forehead onto the eyelids. His rapid, ragged breathing was now the only sound in the silence. He continued to grip his shoulder and looked a little ridiculous with her cardigan still tied on him.

She remembered the little sniveling brat he'd been in their schooldays, who tended to back off from the slightest physical confrontations. His smugness and confidence back then was one propped up by his goons, his family name, and his father's money—a borrowed strength. But in the body lying as evidence at their feet, and in the way they'd been working together through this ordeal, she was beginning to think he'd changed in many ways since then. Or perhaps she was witnessing the parts of him that she'd never gotten to know in the first place, not until bizarre circumstances had forced them together. Either way, she just wanted this disastrous night to end.

"How are you holding up?" she asked with a worried glance at his upper chest.

He opened his eyes and slightly shrugged his left shoulder. "I've dealt with worse."

His words piqued her morbid curiosity, but she doubted Malfoy would volunteer any details. "Well let's rest for a bit, now that we can afford to. You definitely need it, and don't lie about being fine. I'll admit I'm impressed that you're hiding the pain so well, but I heard you during that fight."

He let go of his shoulder and shook his head vehemently, looking positively indignant. "I wasn't lying. I _am_ fine, and we should get going. If what the Muggles said earlier is to be believed, we might only have an hour or less until the wizards come back."

Though he remained deathly pale, his breathing had calmed down, and his speech no longer sounded truncated and forced as it had been just after he'd been shot. Still, she remained unconvinced.

At the skeptical look in her eyes, he said, "I trust that you're familiar with Occlumency?"

She nodded. Unlike Harry, she was decent at it despite her temperamental nature. She suspected it was more because Harry never really tried to learn.

"Pain is just like any other emotion or thought. If you're skilled enough, you can lock it away and bury it so deep in your mind that even you can't perceive it."

She frowned. "I take it you must be adequately skilled then, but I've noticed you're still unable to use your right arm without pain."

"It doesn't work that way. If you physically stimulate the source of the pain, it's like you're adding new sensations that have not yet been suppressed. Obviously, that was what I did just now, but I've gotten it back under control."

"And you can keep doing this indefinitely?" she asked dubiously.

"No," he admitted with great reluctance, "I can't keep it up forever. All the more reason we need to get going."

"Alright, but there's still the bleeding." She leaned around him to take a look at his back. It was hard to tell through her folded cardigan, but at least there wasn't a visible trickle of blood around the edges. "Can you do any wandless healing spells?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I can't do any more magic right now, or I risk losing control of the pain."

"Then I can at least bandage the wound more properly for you."

"Thank you," he bit out, "but I'm fine. It can wait. We don't have a good idea of how much time we'll need to get somewhere more secure. I'd rather err on the side of caution."

"Fine, but if you collapse from the blood loss, it'll be your fault."

"I won't," he said gruffly and kneeled down by the Muggle's motionless body.

Like so much of tonight, the whole scene felt altogether surreal, like she wasn't really there but instead was watching a dream version of herself from a distance. "Is he...is he dead?"

If he was, she didn't know how to feel about it. For some time now, it chilled her to think that maybe the war and its aftermath had desensitized her to death. Or perhaps the numbness of all that loss, so many friends and a brother among them, had never really gone away, even though it had been a year since then. If he was dead, the Muggle would be just another body among the countless in her memories, lost in a life-and-death struggle.

Malfoy placed two fingers against the man's throat, presumably to check his pulse, and then held those same fingers right under the man's nose. He looked up at her. "He's breathing and his heart's still beating, though barely. I need you to take the laces from his shoes."

"Why?"

"You still have free use of both your arms. It'll be faster for you to do it." He'd slowly enunciated each word as if he found her particularly dimwitted.

She ignored the implied insult—an act that she was finding easier to do each time with all the practice opportunities he gave her. "I meant, why do you need his laces?"

Once again he raised his obnoxious eyebrow at her. "Merlin help us all if you ever become an actual Auror. I don't know about you, but I definitely don't want to take any chances, even though it's very likely he won't be in a state to do much of anything when he wakes. That is if he even wakes up in time."

She understood then, but it didn't make the act feel any less strange. The surreal feeling came back stronger than ever as she pulled the Muggle's trainers off his feet and yanked the laces from the eyelets. Malfoy, seeming to understand her reluctance to touch the body, turned the man over for her and arranged his limbs close to one another so that she could tie the man's wrists and ankles together with the shoelaces.

She glanced back over at the blond when she was done. Ginny had always thought the Malfoys were the type of people who left nothing to chance and could be brutal when they needed to be. If Draco had lived up to such expectations, he certainly wouldn't have been satisfied with just tying the Muggle up.

His eyes hardened as he met her gaze. "I know what you're thinking, and I can't say I'm bloody surprised."

He stood up abruptly and turned away from her, clearly pissed off. Her brow crinkled in confusion. Ginny couldn't fathom why her thoughts just now would have angered him. She was quickly learning that he was quite a perceptive bloke, almost scarily so, but she doubted he was infallible in his deductions.

"And what might that be?" she called out to him.

"You obviously already know," he said stiffly, still with his back to her.

"Well I better, considering they're my thoughts, but I don't think _you_ actually do. I'll tell you, but please, feel free to correct me. I was reminded of your family just now and thought about how you weren't a cold-blooded killer despite what a lot of people believe because of your past. Am I wrong? Do you actually _want_ people to think that about you?"

When he spun back around, she caught the briefest glimpse of the surprise on his face before he transformed it into a scowl. After a beat of silence, he said heatedly, "Think I'm weak and a coward, then? Well you can just—"

She quickly interrupted him before he could continue his tirade and get worked up over it. "Malfoy." She gestured at the immobile Muggle. "I take it back, at least in this case. A coward would have never charged at a man threatening him with a gun, certainly not when surrendering was an option."

Shadows of emotions too fleeting for her to name crossed his face before he schooled his features to appear impassive. His tone was snide when he spoke. "Please keep your pathetic notions of bravery to yourself. I'm only doing what it takes to get out of this alive, nothing more. You'll do well to remember that."

Trust him to turn a positive comment from her into an insult, not to mention how he'd failed to see that at least one of his actions tonight contradicted that notion. It was just the chip on his shoulder flaring up again, despite their having more pressing concerns to address. She sighed and gave up trying to mollify him. Instead, she directed his attention to another matter.

"I don't think we should leave that behind either, even if he's tied up," she said, pointing at the glowing object on the Muggle's wrist.

Malfoy nodded and muttered, "I knew nothing good would come from that law."

She wasn't sure what he meant, but didn't care enough to ask for an explanation as she hastily unfastened the device from the Muggle's wrist. He wasn't dead yet, but she couldn't shake off the wrongness of the act. It felt like she was stealing from a dead body. The Muggle was so still, he could nearly pass for one.

Once the Tracker was freed, she held it up and experimentally tapped the domed surface twice. It clinked like glass against her nail and began pulsing with a blue light.

"Have you seen anything like it? I'm quite certain it's a Magical object."

"I've seen something like it used by treasure hunters for locating objects. This one has obviously been modified, but this really isn't the time to be distracted by shiny baubles. Hurry up. We've spent too much time here already."

Though he was right, she scowled at him anyway as she stood up. It felt wrong to put the Tracker around her wrist, considering where she'd taken it from, so she fastened it around a belt loop on her jeans instead.

There was just one other matter she felt compelled to explain before they went on.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out before she could think too much about it.

He glanced at her with puzzlement in his eyes.

Ginny wasn't certain how to continue but pushed on regardless. For her pride's sake, she had to make sure he understood that her failing to act earlier wasn't because she had been too afraid for her own life. "Sorry that I didn't do anything to help you with the Muggle. It was only because I was so worried that he would—"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "You stayed and provided the distraction I needed. That was enough. It's certainly more than a lot of people would have done." His voice was quiet. Then he grimaced as if he'd said too much and added, "I'm quite glad you didn't act brashly. I might not be alive otherwise." He looked her up and down then, as if sizing her up. "You strike me as the impulsive type who tends to act before thinking."

She flushed with embarrassment at the rather accurate description, and he gave her a tiny smirk in return. While he might have earned a bit more respect from her for his feat with the Muggle, she didn't think he'd ever lose the ability to get under her skin.

"What did you expect me to do anyway, when you threw me the Cloak?" she huffed and then instantly regretted asking. Undoubtedly, he would point out how daft she was for missing something obvious.

"It was less about you than the fact that I didn't need the Muggle to be invisible on top of that stupid weapon he already had."

In a way it still sounded like an insult to her, though not one about her intelligence for once, but she felt better knowing there hadn't been an obvious course of action she hadn't been able to deduce.

"So will you let me help you over the wall this time?" she asked. "Because we both know how well last time went." She looked pointedly over at the Muggle.

At the indignation flushing his face, laughter bubbled uncontrollably from her. "Malfoy, I just saw you singlehandedly take down an armed Muggle without using any magic. I promise I won't think any less of you because you needed a boost from me to get over a wall, especially since you took a bullet to your back less than an hour ago."

She took his disgruntled huff as an agreement and laced her hands together to provide a platform for his foot as she knelt down to better brace herself. When she looked up, he was smirking widely at her.

_What now?_ she thought wearily before it struck her what their position might remind him of. She groaned and rolled her eyes. "And you call me out for being distracted. Not even in your dreams, Malfoy. Get going. And get your dirty mind out of the gutter."

He chuckled but quickly complied, using her hands as a stepping stone so that he could swing his leg over the wall without needing much support from his right hand. She still heard him wince and swear a few times, but then he was successfully on the other side.

She grinned deviously at him from across the wall. "I hope you know I'll bring this up every time we see each other after this."

The mortification on his face was truly priceless. Laughing she took another running leap at the wall and pulled herself upwards.

"Wait, what about that Muggle weapon?" said Malfoy just as she had swung one foot over the top.

_Damn._ She didn't want to have anything more to do with it, but Malfoy had a point. It probably wasn't wise to leave it behind.

She slipped back down the wall rather roughly and heard a soft crack like the breaking of an egg. Glancing down she saw that the surface of the Tracker had fractured in a spider web pattern and was now rapidly cycling through every color of the rainbow with each pulse of light. _Whoops._

She touched it gingerly with one finger, and the last thing she expected was exactly what happened next. The Tracker didn't simply break apart; it shattered with the sound of a hundred windows breaking and brought forth a blinding white light that erased everything else from sight. Then, just as suddenly, the light disappeared with a rushing noise. Ginny found herself back in the same alley, blinking red spots from her vision. Malfoy stood across the wall from her doing the same. But there was one very important difference.

"What the hell just happened?" spoke a voice that was neither Malfoy's or hers.

She snapped her head towards its source. Time slowed to a crawl as she took in the monstrous bulk of Tank, standing not two feet from her. He glanced from the body of his unconscious partner, back to her, then back again, the puzzle pieces falling into place in his head. When the last piece fell, she'd already turned to run down the alley, knowing she could not make it over the wall in time. For someone so huge, he still moved like lightning. When she picked up her feet to run, he had already picked her up, held her up by her neck with just one of his giant hands as easily as if she was a plastic doll. She found herself staring down into his livid face, angry as a charging bull. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

She concentrated on fighting back, kicking her feet and slamming her fists and digging her nails as it became harder to breathe.

"I'll make sure you won't be running anymore," he bellowed.

She felt his other hand snatch at one of her flailing feet, once again gripping her ankle. This time, once he had clamped on, he twisted. The scream was instinctive, and it was silent. It relieved none of the pain and only served to expel more of the precious air already being squeezed out of her. The Muggle repeated his actions with her other ankle, and she nearly blacked out from the pain.

"Not that it matters, as you won't be breathing for much longer either," he snarled.

_No. _She willed herself to stay conscious, to keep fighting. If she gave up then she was done for. _Block it. Just block it out._ Malfoy's words sprung to mind. _Lock it. Bury it. Like_ _ any other emotion, any other thought._ She drew up the imaginary drawers, felt the hum of magic rushing through her as she concentrated. Metaphorical hands reached for every scrap of pain piercing through her, shoved each bit into the drawers, and slammed them shut before putting them out of her mind altogether. The pain receded, and she hung on, but there was nothing she could do to replace the air she desperately needed. And Malfoy, where was he? Why hadn't he helped her by now?

She clawed and clawed at the hand crushing her throat even as she felt herself weaken. A blackness began seeping in from the edges of her vision, and still Malfoy did not show.

Unbidden, a memory of his voice echoed coldly in her mind, "_I'm only doing what it takes to get out of this alive, nothing more. You'll do well to remember that._"

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><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong> It's super encouraging for me as a writer to be able to hear from my readers, so please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Did it held your interest? Was there anything that didn't make sense? I value feedback, so please do share your thoughts with me. :)

As always thank you so much to my beta TheSecretAdmirer for her invaluable suggestions and corrections.


	6. Chapter 6: Magic and Mayhem

**Chapter 6: Magic and Mayhem**

The startling realization that she was depending on _Malfoy _of all people to save her injected a sudden calmness through Ginny's panic, and with it came piercing clarity of thought.

_NO. It can't end here. To hell with Malfoy. _She refused to go down like some pathetic damsel in distress.

As her throat and chest burned with the need for air, half-remembered Defense lessons flitted through her head.

_Find the weak point. _

But what? What could she even reach?

As if a _Lumos _spell went off in her head, an idea flared to life, bolstering her resolve.

_Please, _please _work. _

While her mind battled consciousness, Ginny scrambled to grip the smallest of the Muggle's sausage fingers. She pried the massive pinky away from her neck, and with all of her remaining strength, snapped it back.

The Muggle howled with pain. His hand instantly recoiled, releasing her, but the giant gulp of air she sucked in on the way down rushed back out in a scream when her feet smacked against the asphalt. The rest of her body pitched sideways and crumbled to the unyielding ground. For several terrifying seconds, Ginny saw only black.

Distressed moans pushed through her haze of pain, and it took a moment before she realized the sounds were coming from herself.

A nightmare. This had to be a nightmare, and at any moment now she would wake up. Her eyes scrunched up tight in her fierce effort to tear through the walls of her subconscious mind. _Come on, wake up! _

But the bumps and grooves of the asphalt pressing against her cheek were too sharp and her agony too piercing for this to be only a dream.

_Oh Gods. This is really happening. Shite. Shite. Shite. _

Yet, even through her alarm, her will to fight clung on, harping at her to act. _Stop this. Get a hold of yourself, Ginny Weasley. _

Gritting her teeth, Ginny slammed her mind shut to all emotions and thoughts, focusing solely on the strenuous mental task of wrestling the pain into submission. The worst of it receded, and her vision cleared. The dimly lit alley leapt into sharp relief, and in its cramped space, she inhaled the suffocating smell of terror with each gasping breath.

Through the hair falling across her eyes, Ginny saw all too vividly the monstrous legs of her would-be murderer. He'd stumbled back several feet from her and continued to assault her ears with a barrage of vicious words. At any second now, he would recover and come at her, angrier than before.

_Merlin, have mercy, _she begged.

Even as she told herself to move, Ginny couldn't deny the futileness of the act without the use of her feet. The shadows of her darkest thoughts stirred, threatening to overwhelm her. She bit back a sob and desperately tried to focus on the present, but her past would not let her be. It was a twisted version of Harry's words that returned to haunt her. _Poor, helpless Ginny. Always needing to be saved. Never could hold her own in a fight. _

But damn it, she didn't want to prove him right again. Not like this. Not for the final time.

Yet reality couldn't be stopped with the force of her denial or her fervent wishes. It rushed at her all the same, relentlessly bearing down on her with each of the Muggle's encroaching footsteps.

"Stop," she cried. "You don't have to do this." Maybe she could talk him out of his rage. Then again, maybe she couldn't, but she had to try regardless. She had so few options as it was. Do or die. If words failed to work, she braced herself to fight down to her last conscious breath.

Just inches from her, his feet abruptly swerved to the side and leapt past her, followed by another furious outburst of swearing.

She only had time to raise her upper body into a sitting position before a body flew through the air before her. It crashed to the ground on its side and curled into itself, groaning with pain.

White shirt. Black slacks. Pale skin and silver-blond hair.

_Malfoy. _

The situation left no room for emotional responses or the why's and how's of his appearance. Shaking off her shock, she swept all distracting questions aside except for the imperative: _how the hell do we get out of this? _

The Muggle stalked towards Malfoy who was struggling to get to his feet. "Should've run when you had the chance. Now you'll pay for what you did," he snarled before flicking his eyes down to her. "And I'll deal with _you_in just a bit. It's not like you're going anywhere." He laughed mirthlessly before turning his attention back to Malfoy.

"Wait a minute," gasped Malfoy as he half-stood up. "Trust me, your boss wouldn't want this. I'm worth—"

The Muggle didn't wait to hear the rest. He swung a fist and missed when Malfoy staggered backwards, barely in time. "No way in hell I'm taking another chance on you two," he spat out.

Nausea rose in her throat when the Muggle sprung forward and kicked Malfoy's feet out from under him, sending him sprawling to the ground. She looked away and frantically swept the surroundings with her eyes. There was no escaping with the Muggle here in their current state. Their only option was to take him down.

But how? _How? _They were physically outmatched and handicapped by injuries. The odds couldn't be stacked higher against them. Angry, frustrated tears pricked at her eyes.

Another dull thud reached her ears. A hiss of pain.

_Must not panic. Must not panic. Mustnotpanic. _

She blocked out the sound and ignored the heaving of her stomach.

A weapon. That's what she needed. A memory flashed through her desperation and left her livid at herself for not thinking of it sooner. That Muggle weapon. Where the hell was it?

She crawled forward on her stomach towards the shadowed corner where she remembered the gun had been kicked.

Behind her, Malfoy spoke. Then came the sound of another blow. A harsh gasp.

_Come on. Comeoncomeon. _She fumbled in the darkness with shaking hands, brushing over rough asphalt for anything hand-size and solid. A flash of lightning was her savior, its silver light glancing off the metal barrel of the gun not two feet from her. She stretched out her arm and snatched it up, molding it to her hand as she'd seen in films.

The rumble of thunder masked her cry of pain when she accidentally put pressure on her feet while rolling onto her back to sit up. Several feet in front of her, the Muggle was aiming another swift kick at Malfoy's stomach where he lay curled up on his side. This time, Malfoy gave no response.

A fevered heat and a chill swept through her simultaneously. All sound receded behind the blood pounding in her ears as her vision narrowed into a tunnel. There was no time to think or reflect on the consequences, no time to hesitate. She raised the gun with trembling hands and pulled the trigger.

With a sharp jerk, the gun recoiled, and she flinched back, the blast ringing in her ear. The shot went wide.

_Shite. _

Survival instincts kicked in. Within seconds, she adjusted her shaky hold, aimed, and squeezed the trigger again.

Her scream joined the explosive crack that shredded the air. The gun clattered to the ground as she clutched at her hand where a bloody, searing gash had been slashed along her thumb, but that was the least of her troubles as the Muggle spun and charged at her with an outraged roar.

_What the hell? _She _hit _him. She must have. Biting back the pain, she lunged for the dropped gun. The top of it had slid back—possibly what had gouged her thumb.

_Fuck. Was it broken? _

There was no time to figure it out. Ginny snatched the gun off the ground and rolled away just as giant hands dove for her. Ending again on her back, she raised the gun at point-blank range, but it failed to fire. Instead, the Muggle pounced, ripping it right out of her hand and chucking it out of sight. He slammed his bulk onto her, crushing the air out of her lungs as his weight pressed her into the ground. It was of little solace that the majority of the pressure he exerted was on her torso and thighs and not on her broken ankles.

"Get off me!" she shrieked, squirming and twisting in a frantic attempt to free herself, but she might as well have been struggling against solid rock. Her hands shot for his eyes, but he smacked them aside and clamped iron fingers around her wrists. In between shallow gulps of air, she began screaming for her life on the off chance that someone might hear.

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up."

But she wouldn't. She would not.

In response, he slapped her wrists brutally down onto the ground above her head. Ginny felt him transfer his hold of one wrist to his other hand, and she shook with a terrified certainty of what was to come. _No. Oh Gods, no._

She screamed louder in a last ditch effort, but when the Muggle's freed hand lunged for her throat, she took a gulping breath, knowing it could very well be her last.

This time she had nothing, nothing with which to fight back, and no one from which to hope for help. A wet sheen blurred her vision, and Ginny hated herself for it. _No. It can't. It can't end here. Not like this._The words were a mantra she repeated incessantly. Feverishly. Desperately.

And then she heard voices, ones that sounded oddly like Malfoy. Was this how she was going to go? Led into unconsciousness and death by the hallucinations of her oxygen-deprived mind?

A wave of hysteria washed over Ginny. Who would've ever thought that a likeness of Malfoy would be the last voice she heard?

But it wasn't his typical taunts or sneers that reached her ears. Not a smug drawl or an insult. Instead, the words sounded jagged and agonized as if it caused him severe pain to speak. "Use your magic. Just _try _damn it. You're a witch, aren't you?"

_I'm not stupid, you idiot, _she wanted to scream back at him, even if he was a hallucination. But what was a witch without her wand? No more than a Muggle without magic. At that moment, she decided. If this was to be her last moment, it was not going to be in fear or panic.

She ceased her vain struggles and speared her assailant with her gaze. He stared back with unease flitting through his eyes. A vicious joy jolted through her at the sight.

Though her throat burned raw, though her lungs felt ready to burst with her need for air, with each second that she became more lightheaded and her vision dimmed, Ginny only grew further incensed. Anger was a friend. She relished it, welcomed it as it burned her up white-hot. Despite steadily losing her grip on the conscious world, for a moment she felt in control.

Forced to do so silently, she swore with all the rage she could muster at the Muggle looming above her. It made little sense, but she was beyond reason, no longer capable of thinking straight.

She continued to heat up, energy humming through her veins. Sweat broke across her brow. She was hot. Too hot, as if she would burst into flames at any moment. But the heat was nothing compared to the pressure. She just wanted it gone. Not just the painful choke on her neck, but his entire disgusting weight wearing her into the ground. _Go to hell_, she flung at him.

The pressure became too much, crushing at her from all sides. Something had to give. But she would not let go. Her mind grew teeth and claws, clinging onto consciousness with everything she had to give. The darkness beckoned, promising sweet relief, but she had stared into this abyss before and knew its lies.

_No, _she shrieked.

_NO. _

_**NO. **_

The world exploded. All senses swirled into an indistinguishable mass, every nerve ending scrubbed raw. If this was oblivion, then it was unlike any she'd ever known. Its landscape was not black but a white so brilliant, it hurt. Yet it was neither something she could really see nor feel. It just was.

Was this it then? The limbo she'd slipped into while waiting for death? Or was she already there? Either way, she neither panicked nor raged. Having spent all her energy, the fight was gone out of her, leaving only resignation.

Maybe Malfoy would soon join her here. The Fates had certainly proven they hated her. What's to stop them from shackling her to him for all of eternity? Or perhaps, with that much time, she would even find his presence tolerable. At the very least, wherever she was, the pressure had dissipated. An immense lightness filled her, and she sunk into it in blessed relief.

That was until the pain started—a bruised, sore throbbing. The whiteness began to blur into mist. She heard the ugly, ragged gasping before she felt it in her own throat and lungs. Air. She couldn't seem to get enough of it.

The whiteness blinked out and left her staring at the night sky and the buildings looming above her. She clutched at her chest, lungs heaving and burning, mind racing.

_Alive. I'm alive, _was her first instinctive thought, but it floated hazily in her mind, uncertain of its own truth.

When breathing no longer required her concentrated effort, she raised herself into a half-sitting position and spotted Malfoy several feet away, still sprawled on the ground but alert. As he propped himself up on one arm, his wide grey eyes stared back at her, stunned. After a beat, his gaze shifted. Ginny followed it and lost the breath she'd just recovered.

She found him, her assailant, slumped against the building across from her. A dark and slick liquid splattered the wall above him and descended in a hideous streak down to his motionless body.

_Dead. _The thought pierced her mind with a chilling certainty before her brain could even piece the scene together. It was a word her subconscious had automatically supplied, disconnected from any meaning.

_Dead. _

For a fraction of a second that felt infinitely longer, lightning illuminated every ghastly detail before her, painting them in haunting, ethereal shades of silver tinged with blue. Thunder rumbled almost immediately after as Mother Nature ripped loose a giant seam in the clouds, spilling their watery contents in a sudden deluge. While the coldness of the rain seeped into her bones, another realization altogether sent shivers through her body. Without even intending to, she spoke it aloud.

"I've k-killed him."

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

As always feedback would be greatly appreciated!

I hope you were able to follow the action sequences, but if anything was confusing, let me know. I tried to have the gun part be realistic, but I couldn't be too specific in describing it with proper names for what happened because Ginny's POV doesn't have that knowledge.

Thanks again so much to TheSecretAdmirer for beta-reading.


	7. Chapter 7: A Devil's Choice

**A/N**: In case you didn't notice, Chapter 6 and 7 were updated almost simultaneously, so be sure to read Chapter 6 if you haven't. I wrote them as one draft initially before deciding to split them up, hence why you're getting two chapters at once.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: A Devil's Choice<strong>

This time, the nausea that rocked her body couldn't be stopped. Ginny barely turned to the side in time before heaving onto the asphalt. Since her stomach had been mostly empty, what contents expelled were quickly washed away by the torrential downpour, but even when she had nothing more to give, the dry heaving continued.

As she gagged and retched, the last thing she expected to feel was the hesitant pressure of a hand on her shoulder. _Malfoy's_, she realized dimly. Still stunned and reeling from recent events, her mind had no room to register further surprise, even when his rain-slicked fingers brushed her cheek as they swept her hair aside, tucking the wet strands behind her ear, out of her way.

The unexpected gesture proved her undoing. Shock melted away, freeing the torrent of emotions and thoughts previously held at bay. They surged through her, and behind closed lids, her eyes burned with the force of holding them back. In that moment, she had never been more grateful for the rain whose freezing droplets numbed her body and disguised her silent tears.

When the heaving of her stomach finally settled, she spat to clear her mouth of the sickly sour taste coating her tongue before wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Wanting nothing more than to curl up, she tried to pull her knees to her chest, but spikes of excruciating pain reminded her of the useless state of her feet. With no other recourse, Ginny simply burrowed her face into her hands, but though she covered her eyes, she could not close her mind to the scene before her. Justifications ran through her head, one after another, but they did nothing to ease the sinking weight in her gut dragging her down and down to the point where the earth might just swallow her up. For the moment she didn't want to think about anything—not the danger they were still in, not the terrible reality of what she'd done. It was all too much.

Instead, she focused on the drumming of the rain to drown out her thoughts. She might have sat there until morning dawned, self-blinded and deaf to everything else around her, if Malfoy's voice hadn't broken through her daze.

"There's no need to dwell on it," he said quietly. "You only did what you had to do."

She looked up from her hands and found him sitting close beside her, as soaked as she was, his clothes and hair clinging stiffly to his body. His grey eyes, staring back at her, seemed strangely...open, stripped of their usually hard glint. The rest of his face was in ghastly shape with a new bruise blooming across one cheek while the cut on his other had split back open, steadily dripping blood down onto his chin. What a sight they both made.

She thought back to his words just then and gave a bark of empty laughter. "Easy for you to say. It's not like you've ever..." The words lodged in her throat. She swallowed and pushed on, her own misery turning her tone acerbic. "Even if you had, I doubt you would—"

The haunted look in his eyes gave her pause before he whipped his head away from her. After a moment of silence punctuated only by the clatter of rain, he chuckled bitterly and spoke into the drenched air. "Believe me or not, I know it's not easy." He turned and met her gaze again. "But try to distance yourself from it, or you won't last long in your line of work."

His tone was neither harsh nor disdainful. She couldn't quite wrap her mind around it. Was Malfoy actually trying to advise and reassure her? The thought gave her no fodder to throw back at him, and simultaneously, it shamed her that she was so ready to take her misery out on someone else. Feeling even worse, Ginny crossed her arms as if the act would help her hold herself together.

"That won't matter. I'm not going to be an Auror," she choked out, unable to maintain the facade a second longer. "I'm not even one in training. I lied."

"Why?" he asked with a bemused quirk of a rain-darkened eyebrow.

Though the showers had slowed to a soft drizzle, she held herself tighter as a sudden gust chilled her further. "I needed you to think I was useful enough to help in the escape. You can hardly blame me, not after you'd made it clear you were prepared to leave me to my fate."

Abruptly, the words triggered a flashback to earlier events. Pieces snapped into place, and particular details gleamed bright with hindsight. Ginny gasped. "You did it, anyway. You ditched me, left me at the Muggle's mercy."

She pinned him with a gaze that was alternately furious and disbelieving. There was no other way to explain how he didn't act earlier when she needed him, not even with a shout to distract the Muggle. If it hadn't been for her own efforts, she probably would've been strangled to death from that first attempt, and it wasn't as if his arrival at the scene showed the execution of some particular plan that required him to initially lay low.

He visibly flinched back from her words. With her suspicions confirmed by his reaction, Ginny seized at the first reproof that popped into her head, which was unsurprisingly the time honored Gryffindor insult, "You're a bloody, low-down coward."

Malfoy had swiftly recovered and immediately snapped back at her, his voice cutting through the air and rain, cold and sharp as a blade, "Don't you dare start. You have no idea what was at stake for me, and not just for me. Until you've had to choose between one demon and another, don't you dare push your bullshit morality on me."

Another retort perched ready on her tongue, but the rational part of her finally caught up. Really, why was she so astounded by his actions in the first place? This was Malfoy she was talking about despite his redeeming moments tonight, and earlier she'd pretty much accepted that he'd ditched her to save himself. No, what was more shocking was the fact that he'd showed up in the end.

The flame of her righteous anger went out, leaving only bewilderment behind. Given everything that had happened, she had no idea what to think of him.

"I don't understand. If you'd decided to run, why did you come back?"

He sighed, raising his left hand to brush it through his damp hair in an uncharacteristically absentminded gesture. The wet strands held their tousled shape, resulting in the messiest hair she'd ever seen on him. Briefly, he closed his eyes.

"I don't expect you to understand, but know this—it was among the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. "

She stared at him, startled at such an admission. "Why?"

He looked back at her with hardened eyes. "It's none of your business. Just be thankful I came back at all. You'd stayed and provided me with the distraction I needed, so I repaid the favor. Ten times over, I'd say." He looked downwards and gently prodded his sides, wincing in response.

"I beg to differ. Bloody useless you were," she muttered, but it was only her pride speaking, the need to get in the last word. Having calmed down enough to reexamine the events, she couldn't confidently say that his actions, however delayed, hadn't determined the outcome in which she was still alive.

"I did what I could," he bit out, "and I think you'll hardly find me so useless at the moment." He stared pointedly at her ankles.

It was a truth she didn't want to be reminded of. They still had to get out of here before the wizards came back, but all she would be able to manage with two useless feet was a slow crawl and likely not even that for long in her current fatigued state.

"So what's your plan? Leaving me behind again?" Her words lacked the sarcastic snap she'd meant to convey as anxiety stirred again within her. _What if he did? What would I do? _

"You're not going to like it, but we don't have a choice," he replied, his eyes solemn and serious.

When he seemed hesitant to continue, she gestured impatiently at him. "Spit it out already."

He sighed. "While you managed that impressive bit of wandless magic in the nick of time, you don't have the training to pull it off to heal yourself, especially not without any emotional pressure. I can't heal you either. I'm barely holding myself together as it is. If I tried, I'd probably black out in the process without succeeding, rendering both of us useless."

Out of the kettle and into the fire. That was pretty much the story of their night. "So what are you suggesting?" she asked warily, dread pooling in her stomach.

"Our best bet is if I go on ahead to find a way to get us both to safety. I can't carry you in my current state, and we likely won't get away in time if we went at a crawling pace for you. In the meantime, you would be better off just hiding somewhere. With your lack of mobility, trying to follow me at a crawl will only leave you exposed. Even if the wizards have another Tracker, we know it's not pin-point precise and maybe it also has a limited range, so that should help your chances as well."

She scoffed. "And I'm supposed to just believe you'll pull through."

"You'll have to trust me. Fume about it all you like, but you don't exactly have a choice."

"And even if you kept your word, who's to say you'll get back in time? But you're right. Like I even have a bloody choice. Go then if your conscience, if you even have one, can live with the possibility that you're leaving me to die." Her tone was bitter, though it was more towards the whole messed-up situation in which she was once again helpless than at his plan.

"It's not like that, damn it." He dragged a frustrated hand through his hair again, a very Harry-like gesture, which she suspected Malfoy was resorting to only because he was at his wits' end whereas it was a habit of Harry's. She was sorely tempted to point out the similarity just to irk him, but there were pressing matters at hand.

"Just go, Malfoy. The sooner, the better my chances." She glanced back over at Tank's immobile body and shuddered. _No, not now. I can't deal with it right now. _She looked quickly away. "But where should I go? I don't want to wait here."

He nodded with more understanding in his eyes than she was willing to give him credit for. "It wouldn't be good either if you're found with them. I know of a better spot several yards away...back the way I came. Think you can make it there?"

She nodded. Even if it caused her agony to move, she would rather that than wait here with only still bodies for company. He slowly got to his feet, and that observation alone told her he wasn't as fine as he made himself out to be.

"Follow me," he said, making his way towards the gap between the building and the stone wall that marked the dead end.

"What about you?" she asked as she crawled forward in the direction he'd indicated. "Can you actually last long enough to get us help?"

"My Occlumency skills are excellent, and I told you I've dealt with worse. I can more than handle this."

"How humble you are."

"Yes, because that's exactly what this situation calls for," he drawled wryly. "I'm sure it would help you to hear that I'm not even certain I can make it past a few blocks."

He was right of course, not that she would admit it out loud. "I still don't understand how it's possible. The Muggle must have at least cracked a couple of ribs with his kicks, but you hardly sound like you're in any pain."

"I'm certain he did, the fucking brute. It's sore to be sure, even with the mental clamp I have on it. Thank Merlin you acted so quickly. "

"Oh my, was that almost a compliment?" she said as she stopped to catch her breath and rest her forearms that stung and throbbed from the constant, abrasive contact with the rough, uneven ground. Who would've ever thought she would be glad to have Malfoy for company? But silently, Ginny had to admit that she was grateful for the banter between them that distracted her from the miserable, ignominious task before her.

Malfoy had also stopped to wait for her and didn't reply until she started crawling again. It ended up being a non-answer anyway. "I don't give undeserved compliments," he said.

After a brief pause, he surprised her by adding, "I'll admit, even if it had been a lie, you handled yourself back there just as well as any Auror, better I'd say with all the riff-raff they've been accepting lately."

His acknowledgement of her was unexpected, but when the full implication of his words sunk in, she ceased moving altogether, floored by the realization that his statement was the most credit that anyone had ever given her, and it hadn't come from the people who were close to her—not her parents or her brothers and certainly not Harry. No, in a night of ironies and unbelievable moments, the greatest compliment of her abilities that she'd ever received had come instead from someone who would've more than likely hurled insults at her should they've crossed paths on a normal day.

"Are you alright? Maybe—"

She shook her head and started crawling again. "I'm fine. We're still too close."

They proceeded for several more feet in silence.

"Thank you," she said finally.

"You don't need to thank me. In fact, I'd rather you didn't."

They lapsed back into silence, but it was only a few minutes more before Malfoy stopped where the building ended and another alley appeared. Here there was a gap in the stone wall where the alley connected to the road.

He directed her to crawl through the opening and cross the street beyond it. Directly on the other side were a series of small run-down houses, each surrounded by a low stone wall. Once Ginny had reached the cracked pavement beyond the road, she slumped flat to the ground, her fatigue having sunk in bone-deep. It wasn't just a physical exhaustion. Within her, she could feel through the ebb and flow of her magic that it was significantly drained. That bit of uncontrolled wandless magic had taken a lot more out of her than she'd expected. It was rather miraculous that her Glamour Charms still held up, a fact she attributed to the strength of the charms she'd used and the amulet she wore that George had crafted for the explicit purpose of stabilizing Glamour Disguises, but that wasn't of much use to her right now.

"I can't go on much longer," she gasped out. She hated having to admit her weakness, but either way he would find out when she physically couldn't budge an inch more.

"This will have to do then," he said as he pushed open the rickety, squeaking gate leading into the garden of the closest house. "Wait here out of sight behind the wall. I'll be right back." With that he took off at a brisk stride.

She followed through with his instructions and ended up a little ways along the wall inside the unkempt garden where she pulled herself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall for support. By then the rain had ceased to fall, and at least temporarily, the physical effort she'd exerted warmed her against the chill of a soaked body.

Just when her pounding heart had finally calmed down, it sped back up again at the sound of footsteps coming rapidly closer. She was certain too short a time had passed for it to be Malfoy, and while it could merely be a passing stranger, it could also very well be someone on the hunt for her.

_Fuck. _

A quick glance around her only further increased her panic. The garden was overgrown, but the plants were not substantial enough to provide adequate cover. The house was boarded up, even if she could've made it there in time. Yet she couldn't fully blame Malfoy for the terrible choice in hiding spots when her own exhaustion hadn't allowed her to go much further.

The gate squeaked open.

_No. Not this again. _

For a brief second, she scrunched her eyes close to steel herself, knowing she had so little with which to fight this time. When she opened them again, Malfoy was before her.

Ginny clutched at her chest. "For fuck's sake, couldn't you have given me a warning? How the hell are you back so soon?"

In answer he held up one Invisibility Cloak, unexpectedly free of bloodstains. In truth, its existent had slipped her mind with everything else she had to deal with. "This should provide a little more cover for you while I'm gone. Luckily, it looks like the rain was enough to wash it clean. They don't know you have one, so they won't expect you to be hiding out in the open."

"Why didn't you take it with you earlier?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"You mean when that troll Muggle appeared? I had to act quickly. There wasn't time to scrounge around for where you'd dropped it. It wouldn't have been as useful in a chase, anyway. Not with that massive blood stain."

She stared skeptically back at him. "It slipped your mind didn't it, in the panic of the moment?" He scowled at her, but she moved right on. "Maybe you should take it. If they stumble across you first, we're both screwed."

He shook his head resolutely, already moving to wrap the Cloak around her. "No. You'll be closer to them, and I can run if I have to. You can't."

"This is awfully generous of you," she remarked with disbelief.

He got right into her face as his hands pulled the edges of the Cloak together over her chest. His grey eyes, only centimeters away, seared into hers with a scorching intensity. She felt her entire body flush with an uncomfortable heat and reflexively tried to back away, but the solid wall didn't let her budge even a fraction of an inch. He was so close to her that his warm breath fanned over her lips as he spoke.

"I'd appreciate it if you would stop making assumptions about me. And make no mistake, if I needed the Cloak, I would've taken it. That said, I _will_get you out of here, and contrary to what you probably believe, a Malfoy keeps his word." She could've sworn he dragged out each sentence to further lengthen the time of her discomfort, and damn it, why was he leaning even further in?

With an abrupt movement, he yanked the Cloak over her head and finally backed away. She resisted the urge put a hand to her flaming cheeks. Why in Merlin's name was she reacting like this? It made her feel ten times the fool. Irritated, she snapped crossly back at him, "You better. If I die, I swear to Merlin I'll stay back as a ghost to haunt you for the rest of your life. I'll make it a living hell. I _promise _you."

"It won't come to that. Stay out of sight, and don't do anything stupid," he threw at her before heading back through the gate. Though his parting words were confident, she thought he'd looked almost nervous.

As the sounds of his footsteps faded, she placed a hand on her chest and felt the rapid beating of her heart against her palm. _Ugh, why did I let him get to me? _The fact that she was even pondering the question was stupid in the first place, she told herself and quickly put an end to her train of thought.

The night rolled on and bled into early morning. She was too exhausted to do much more than breathe and too anxious to have fallen asleep. With each passing minute, all she could do was wait with only Malfoy's word to go on. Quietly, she fumed about her helplessness in the matter. What kind of cracked-up world had she stumbled into where a Malfoy was the 'shining knight' she waited for? Ginny snorted at the ridiculous image the thought put in her head.

How the hell had her life come to this? Her only solace was that without her actions earlier, he would've likely been dead as well.

As the skies lightened, needles of panic and apprehension prickled anew up and down her back. Yet despite her tense state and without intending to, Ginny fell asleep. She couldn't remember even closing her eyes, but all the same, a startling bang, like a gunshot, jolted her into consciousness. Then came the sudden sound of running footsteps, not from a distance, but alarmingly close by.

Her heart bolted in her chest like a hunted prey; her breath turned rapid and shallow. Bracing herself for whatever might come, Ginny found herself fervently wishing for the first time in her life: _Please let it be Malfoy. Please, _please _let it be Malfoy._

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

This chapter and the previous could have played out in several different ways, so I'm dying to know what you thought of the direction I decided to take it in. Please do chime in. Even if you're only the occasional reviewer, I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter especially.

Sorry for the long wait for an update! Unfortunately it will likely continue to be sporadic for the next couple of months as I will be traveling extensively which doesn't leave me much time to sit down and write. I'm still chugging away at it though! I'm also curious if you would prefer quicker updates but shorter chapters or vice versa?


	8. Chapter 8: A Storm's Eye View

**Chapter 8: A Storm's Eye View**

A voice spoke, and it wasn't Malfoy's. It was low, gravelly, and entirely unfamiliar.

"Do you see her?"

The words cut through Ginny like a glacial frost, paralyzing her insides and turning her blood to ice. She stopped breathing, fists clenched to the point of pain.

Would they wipe her mind and dump her in the middle of nowhere? Or would they just kill her out right? She didn't know which would be worse. There was no time to ponder her fate though, because the footsteps were already at the gate, which was wrenched open, the rusted metal protesting with a scream. She swiveled her head to face her potential murderers head on, a panic thick as rubber cement clogging her throat. The fevered rush of adrenaline slowed time down until minute actions were captured like static photos: a black-clad knee appearing past the wall, a leg stepping through, a—a—

_Malfoy_. The name escaped her lips in a stupefied whisper. He was rushing forward in her direction, her cardigan still tied around his chest, grimacing as if in pain as his eyes scanned along the stone wall.

"Where are you?" he called out, his voice spiked with panic. Even after everything else that had happened, she'd never seen him so disarrayed, so not in control. Her momentary relief warred with confusion and unease.

"Damn it, where are you?" He ran with his hand outstretched, searching.

"Here," she croaked out, barely audibly, her mouth impossibly dry. Quickly she swallowed and tried again, louder this time. "I'm here."

His hands dove in the direction of her voice, and then suddenly the Cloak was torn from her. She cried out as he yanked some of her hair along with the Cloak.

The stinging pain on her scalp had yet to recede when she spotted an older man with a grizzled face coming through the gate, dressed in a frayed cable-knit jumper and faded trousers. After the encounters of last night, the decidedly Muggle clothing did nothing to put her at ease.

Her eyes, widening in alarm, sprung back to Malfoy. He appeared calm again, but this fact only served to inject a new dark thought into her frantic mind. Upon seeing him, she'd assumed the earlier voice belonged to someone they were getting help from, but what if—her mind refused to finish the thought. The staggering truth was that after everything they'd been through since last night, she'd come to trust him, a Malfoy. The question had been if he _could_, if it were even possible, for him to return in time. She hadn't doubted that he would at least try.

"Sorry," he told her, gutting her with a single word. Ginny's eyes prickled red hot with rage and fear. Despite her helplessness in the matter, her thoughts lashed at her severely. _How dumb could you be?_ _You haven't changed at all. Always trusting people so easily like a complete idiot._

But when his hand reached out towards the side of her head before dropping again awkwardly at his side, she stupidly realized he'd meant her hair. Close to bursting with all the conflicting thoughts and emotions flooding her, Ginny sent him a silent question with an agitated nudge of her head towards the encroaching stranger.

"Your way out," Malfoy said tersely, as if the words had to be torn from him. He sounded almost petulant.

She soon understood why.

Now only a footstep away, the unknown man came to a breathless stop and looked down at her with concerned eyes. "Don't worry, miss. Everything will be okay. We'll get you into the car and out of here in a jiffy." With outstretched hands he asked, "May I?"

_Definitely Muggle. _

Ginny nodded numbly in reply, allowing the man to scoop her up, one arm supporting her under her knees and the other at her back. She placed her own hand on his shoulders to stabilize herself. Even her overwhelming relief at escaping a worse fate could not overpower the embarrassment of being carried so helplessly to the Muggle vehicle, which had clearly seen better days. Coated in peeling blue paint, the squat, angular car sat parked by the pavement right outside the gate, its singular passenger side door hanging wide open. The man stopped in front of it and waited expectantly_. _

_Had Malfoy gotten back here in that old thing? _ The amusement she normally would have obtained from the proud blond being forced to ride in a beat-up Muggle car was subdued in her fatigued state. Her mind was still reeling from the rapid succession of life-and-death threats.

A moment of awkward silence passed before the Muggle turned around to face Malfoy. "Er, can you pull the seat back so I can put her in?"

Malfoy blinked uncomprehendingly, his cheeks flushing a faint pink with fluster which prompted a grin from Ginny despite her exhaustion. Twice, his gaze flitted between her and the car before he approached the Muggle contraption with the wary footsteps of someone walking knowingly into a trap.

"Pull up on that small lever by the seat," she said quickly, all the while hoping the man wouldn't think too much about Malfoy's obvious ignorance in all things Muggle. _Bet he never thought Muggle knowledge would come in handy_, she thought smugly, thankful for her Muggle-obsessed father and Muggle-born friends.

Malfoy balled up the Invisibility Cloak and stashed it in front of the seat before following her instructions. Fumbling with decided lack of his usual grace, he eventually managed to snap the seat forward. When he stepped back, his lips were pressed into a tight, barely quivering line. She could just imagine the indignation he must have been straining to keep at bay. The chances of them meeting up after this were slim, but she found herself almost hoping for it, given how much she now had to lord over him. It would be such a waste otherwise.

The Muggle set her onto the backseat as gentle as he could, but maneuvering her body through the tight space wasn't easy. Her feet bumped against the car's side, and she gritted her face in pain.

"Watch it," muttered Malfoy.

The man apologized, and she quickly assured him she was fine while shooting a warning glare at Malfoy. Whether he liked it or not, they were in the Muggle's hands. He scowled at her for a second before smoothing his features back into impassivity.

"Thank you so so much for your help," she added in a rush as the man eased the length of her onto the seat. The realization of her earlier lack of manners had caught up to her in a sudden flash now that enough time had passed for the situation to somewhat settle in her mind.

"Think nothing of it. I'm only glad nothing worse happened to you. You and your boyfriend have had quite a night."

She blinked back confusion as his words replayed in her head. _Boyfriend?_

"He was quite distraught trying to get help for you. He didn't even want to wait for me to call the police, insisting over and over that there wasn't enough time. I could tell most people thought he was crazy and were just ready to write him off. That's what this world is coming to. Nobody trusts anyone anymore. Or they just plain don't care. It's a damn shame, but don't you worry. You're safe now."

She thanked him again profusely, and when he retreated to walk around to the driver's side, she directed her gaze back towards Malfoy still standing by the door. For a few moments, she simply stared at him in disbelief. Try as she might, she couldn't conjure up a mental image to match the Muggle's description of Malfoy's actions. _Sure their situation had been desperate, but had he _really_ done all that?_

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly and mouthed something akin to "Just play along" at her before promptly climbing into the front seat, but not before she caught a flutter of something suspiciously resembling mortification in his eyes. Once settled, he sat rigidly straight and didn't look back at her.

An abrupt, delirious hilarity overtook Ginny. Laughter heaved uncontrollably from the depths of her stomach and burst out of her mouth in high-pitch, hysterical giggles. Ginny folded her arms across her belly and squeezed tight in a vain attempt to control her sudden fit. She couldn't even see the Muggle and Malfoy's reactions through her watering eyes.

A part of her knew her reaction was out of scale, but she was helpless to stop it. It wasn't until her breath caught on a hiccup that she realized she was sobbing and trembling as if a mini-earthquake was centered in her chest. The moment she was aware, she tried to choke back her cries and sniff back her pathetic running snot. Aside from the wet noises of her own making, she became conscious of the deathly silence around her, setting her cheeks aflame with humiliation. The last thing Ginny wanted to do was to look up, not while she was such a mess, so she kept her chin tucked onto her chest as she wrestled for control over her emotions with each heaving breath.

_Get a hold of yourself. You're fine. You're okay. It's not like before. It's just this stupid night. You're just overwhelmed. Anyone would be. The constant life-and-death scares. The—the—_

Images flickered like those old Muggle films in her head, forcing her to reel sharply back to the present before they could turn into something more substantial. _I can't deal with any of that right now. We're not even truly safe yet. Not entirely._

The slight pressure of a hand hesitantly squeezing her shoulder finally made her look up right into Malfoy's shadowed grey eyes. She hadn't even heard the door open and close, but there he was, awkwardly kneeling in the space in front of the backseat, looking more uncertain and uncomfortable than anything else. Ginny faintly wondered if Malfoy wouldn't have preferred to stay in the front, but with the Muggle looking on, whatever story he concocted evidently required him to respond more appropriately to his supposed 'girlfriend'_._

She felt the hysteria rising again and hurriedly swallowed it back, hell-bent on not having another repeat episode. Carefully she drew her legs closer to her body to make space for Malfoy, which he took tentatively as the engine sputtered to life.

The Muggle glanced at her in the rearview mirror as he shifted the car into gear. "You alright now, miss?"

She swallowed hard and nodded. "It's been a rough night."

"That's an understatement," he said with shake of his head before turning the car around, and soon they were darting through the empty streets.

A few feet along, just when her body seemed to ease back into relaxed territory, another gunshot-like bang jolted Ginny upright. She looked around in renewed panic, but the Muggle soon calmed her fears.

"Sorry about that. It's just the car, miss. Haven't had a chance to have it looked at yet."

She nodded to show she heard and tried once more to calm her nerves. The Muggle seemed to understand their need for rest, for which she was thankful, as he remained amicably silent for the remainder of the ride.

She kept her own gaze mostly on Malfoy. Despite her weariness, her lips twitched into a smile at his failing attempts to maintain what she now recognized as his impassive mask. When it slipped, he looked terrified for his life, his knuckles nearly translucent in their grip on the seat in front of him. She wouldn't be surprised if he decided to self-_Obliviate_ this whole night from his memory.

It didn't take long before the sway of the vehicle and the warm hum of the engine seemed to lure the tension from Ginny's muscles, allowing her full exhaustion to sink in like a sack of wet sand. She didn't even attempt to fight it. Her eyelids collapsed shut as oblivion crowded the edges of her mind. Faintly, it occurred to her that she had no idea where they were going, but unconsciousness claimed her before any serious concern could jerk her back awake.

The next time she woke, it was a slow meandering drift into consciousness. Her groggy mind bobbed between awake and asleep like a fishing float before her eyes cracked open to light and shadows swirling in a hazy mist. She blinked to clear her vision while her nose crinkled at the bitter, sour whiff of stale smoke and sweat. It was the unsettling irregularity of the smell that finally catapulted Ginny to jarring alertness.

The initial disorientation sent her mind spinning. Rapidly, she regrouped and attempted to catalogue the sights in front of her: A smooth grey ceiling. A face, viewed from below. Her head lying elevated on a surface neither hard nor entirely soft. It felt almost like—

Recognition snapped into place, shooting her upright into a sitting position. A fierce stabbing pain rocketed through her immediately after, and she fell back with an involuntary cry. When she opened her eyes again after the aftershocks of pain had dulled, Malfoy's pale face was staring down at her, framed by a halo of his fair hair.

The rest of her recollections rushed back to her in the next instant. With their weight on her mind again, she was too exhausted, too overwhelmed to be mortified by this latest development. Still she had to ask herself. _Why the hell am I lying in Malfoy's lap?_

He merely looked down at her and in typical Malfoy fashion, spoke as if nothing was out of the norm, "We won't be there for a little while longer. You should go back to sleep."

More carefully this time, she raised herself awkwardly into a sitting position. She refrained from moving her legs, keeping them slightly bent on their sides, but that required her to pivot her body partially to the right in Malfoy's direction to be comfortable. They were still cruising along in a Muggle vehicle, but the interior of smooth grey vinyl was decidedly less worn and beaten-down than the Muggle car she'd fallen asleep in.

"When did we get a taxi?" she asked with surprise, taking in the driver and the familiar meter up front.

"While you were out like the dead, obviously," he replied with that annoying hike of an eyebrow, signifying that he thought her question was stupid.

"I almost was," she retorted.

He clammed up immediately. His lips, previously tilted in an amused smirk, straightened almost instantaneously into a severe line before he abruptly turned to look out the window.

Ginny stared exasperated at the back of his head. _What was his problem? _

With a shrug, she pressed on with inquiring after more important matters. "So are we headed to the—" She quickly stopped herself, remembering a Muggle was in their presence.

"Where did you tell him to take us?" she asked instead. Somewhere near the Ministry, she presumed, so that they could report those thugs and get the help they needed. Then again considering both their physical state, St. Mungo's should probably be their first stop.

"My flat," he replied curtly without turning to face her.

She bit back a shriek before continuing at a more acceptable voice level, though no less insistent. "What? Did you get a blow to the head or something? We need _help_, Malfoy."

She turned, prepared to give the driver new instructions. Malfoy's hand latched immediately onto her wrist and squeezed hard to get her attention.

"Ouch! What is your—"

"_Trust me_," he hissed right into her ear, having leaned close enough that she could feel not only his breath but the faint brush of his lips as he spoke.

She pulled away, flustered and irritated. Honestly, she'd already heard those same two words from him enough to last a lifetime, and had he _no_ concept of personal space?

Apparently he didn't because he only leaned over further to breathe right into her ear as he whispered impatiently, "I found out where we are. The flat's closer, and I keep a spare wand there. We're in the bloody middle of Muggle-nowhere right now, and we'll be sitting targets showing up unarmed where they'd be most expecting us to go. Got it?"

She gritted her teeth as she was forced to mirror his movements, leaning in to speak right into his ear. "You seriously think your flat isn't a target either?"

"No. I haven't used it in ages, and I only ever Apparate there, in or out. It's not an area I hang about in either. I doubt they even know I have a flat in London."

"But we do have the Cloak too. Wait. Please tell me we still have it."

He scoffed. She felt it as a puff of air against the curve of her ear, and the tiniest of shivers jolted through her. Ugh. Her ears had always been a sensitive spot for her—_Oh my god, what am I even thinking? No. Bad brain. Do not even think of going there._ Shocked and a little disturbed, Ginny hurriedly focused her mind back on Malfoy's words.

"—not an idiot to have forgotten it. It's folded at my feet, but again, the cover is inadequate for two people on the move. We also know it doesn't block that stupid scanner, and I repeat: the flat's closer and has a wand. Stop arguing with me just because you want to be right. It's terribly childish."

And there it was. The familiar, red-hot ire Malfoy so easily riled up in her. Ginny found herself oddly relieved to feel it again as she clenched her fists tight to refrain from smacking him.

Bugger it. Once again his reasoning was solid, but he had to go about it so obnoxiously. She took a deep breath, resenting the situation for forcing her to take the higher ground. However, she couldn't stubbornly insist on pressing the matter with their driver looking on suspiciously.

He was staring at them now through the rearview mirror. "Everything alright back there?"

They both straightened up.

"We're fine, thank you, all things considered," she said. The driver looked unconvinced, but his attention went right back to the road. She sighed, glad for his obvious disinterest in their affairs.

"What happened, anyway, to the M-man helping us out earlier?" she asked after a beat.

Malfoy had returned to staring out his window and replied without looking at her, "It was too far for him to take us all the way." She thought she also heard a "Thank Merlin" whispered under his breath.

"So did he call for the cab or did you?" she snickered, quite disappointed she hadn't been awake for longer to observe the rare sight of Malfoy being forced to fumble through Muggle ways.

He didn't deign to reply.

She chuckled and turned to look out her own side of the window. A spattering of people and vehicles were slowly emerging from shadowed houses, bathed in the grey light of dawn that suffused the landscape. The skies above seemed to have cleared after last night's storm, and that sight alone made it feel more real that they'd made it through after all.

_No one's going to believe what happened, but who would I even tell? Has anyone even realized I'm gone? _She chuckled briefly, thinking that if a search team was out, they'd probably hex Malfoy on sight if they saw her Unglamoured-self with him. Then again, she knew Harry's night training sessions had a tendency to carry well into the morning, not to mention he might have decided to crash in another room instead of facing her so soon after their fight. _Oh right, there was that too, _she recalled with a renewed sinking in her stomach. After the night she'd had, her monstrous row with Harry felt like it had happened in another life altogether.

Eager to shake off her sudden gloom, she hurriedly turned her thoughts away from Harry. In the process, another niggling question from earlier leaped back into her mind.

"So Malfoy...care to explain that girlfriend bit?" she asked with a gleeful grin, keen for a bit of amusement to distract her from her less desirable thoughts.

He turned around at that and said irritably though quietly, "You obviously know nothing about manipulating people. I wasn't going to gain as much sympathy or credibility calling you just 'my friend' now, would I?"

"Manipulating people was it? Sounded more like begging to me."

Malfoy opened his mouth and closed it again without a sound. His cheeks, which normally flushed pink, intensified into an angry ruby glow. His whole torso seemed to rise taller with building rage.

"I'm just teasing," she amended hurriedly when she realized that her comment was a bit much, given the circumstances. She would admit to having a bit of a mean streak, but to stab at a sore point that had essentially saved her life—Ugh. It was rather ungrateful of her. If the Muggle earlier was to be believed, than Malfoy had set his pride aside in a way she wouldn't have bet a single Knut on before last night. She was a truly awful person sometimes, and Malfoy being obnoxious in his own right…well, that was no excuse for it. Her mum and dad had raised her better than that. Ginny's cheeks colored with shame.

Swallowing her own pride, she admitted, "I'm sorry, that was terrible on my part. I'm doubly grateful for what you did, truly, because I know it wasn't easy for you."

"You know nothing," he bit out, but her apology must have had some effect for he didn't sound nearly as caustic and incensed as she would have expected. "Proved you wrong, didn't I? You didn't even believe I would come back."

"I did actually." It still came as a bit of a shock to herself. Probably one of the crazier things to have happened last night, and given everything that had transpired, that was saying quite a lot.

From watching him closely, she caught the little jolt he gave at her answer before he narrowed his eyes.

"Why did you? You had no reason to." She didn't fail to pick up on the tinge of bitterness coating his words.

_Why indeed._ She tilted her head in thought. "That's not true. You came back the first time when circumstances were much more dangerous. So why wouldn't you a second time? I know I made it sound like I didn't trust that you would, but it was said more out of anger than anything. I was upset to be so helpless, not to mention panicking out of my mind...But I guess even earlier, when Tank showed up, I nearly lost consciousness before it occurred to me that you could have ran like you did."

Malfoy visibly stiffened, the lines of his body sharpening as if he'd turned into stone.

She searched her mind, strangely compelled to try and put what she'd felt into words. "I think it was because despite everything that is said about you and your family, and considering how much of it you've actually _done_, I never thought you were so terrible, so lacking in basic human decency that your conscience would have allowed you to sacrifice me to save yourself."

"That's a lie." He punctuated the statement with a hollow laugh.

She couldn't honestly refute the statement. He was right. She didn't trust him not to throw Ginny Weasley to the wolves. She didn't trust him to make her a part of his breakout plan. _But I do trust him now, if only with this false version of me. _All in one night, they'd managed to built a rapport with one another in a bizarre, incidental way that she suspected had earned her his—what should she even call it? Whatever it was that made him care somewhat whether she lived or died. Maybe that was the best one could hope for in Draco Malfoy. In any case, analyzing his actions made her head hurt. The man was a bloody enigma.

"Okay, so I didn't really trust you at first, but after we'd busted out of the cell, certainly. You've earned it and proved it a few times over last night. Granted, there was that one almost major slip-up in the middle, but hey, no one's perfect," she joked, hoping to lighten the conversation and put it to rest.

He did laugh at that. Even if it wasn't entirely with mirth, neither was it an empty sound. Seconds later, he was pinning her with his gaze, grey eyes bright and burning with an intense curiosity.

"Who are you, really?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong> Dun dun dun...so any guesses as to how this will go down? ;)

And I'm so sorry this update took forever, but now that I'm not traveling, I hope to get updates back to regular. Thank you to TheSecretAdmirer as always for the beta-reading.

Also, the first round of the **DG Battle of the Drabbles** is up! Many talented DG writers are participating, so do go read and vote for your favorite entries: s/8590025/1/Battle-of-the-Drabbles-A-DG-Collection


	9. Chapter 9: Bad News

**Chapter 9: Bad News**

Under his unnerving gaze, a vise of unease tightened around Ginny's throat. Trusting Malfoy while they were mutual allies was one thing. Trusting him with an incapacitated Ginny Weasley was quite another. His ever-present hatred of Harry made her wary of what his reaction would be.

A dozen possibilities streaked through her head from the plausible to the absurd. Would he feel disgusted and angered that he'd risked his life to save Potter's fiancée? Or would he simply find it ironic? And what if he found some way to use it against her?

England's Wizarding populace was too small for her to even give her first name without risking him making the connection to Weasley. She debated using a fake name, but a part of her felt strangely averse to feeding him another lie after what he'd done to get her out. Malfoy continued to stare when she didn't reply, but his lips started to dip into a frown.

Before she could decide what to do, fortunately, the taxi driver interrupted them. "Is this it, sir?"

Malfoy broke eye contact with her to glance out the window. "Yes, it's the building on the corner, and don't forget, you're to carry her in."

She sighed, exasperated at his arrogant, commanding tone.

The driver pulled up smoothly next to the curb. Through the window, she spotted a clean-swept, well-maintained street lined with rows of immaculate, mansion-sized buildings.

_It figures. _She rolled her eyes at the unapologetic opulence. She'd always wondered how obscenely rich the Malfoys must have been that they managed to weather the heavy post-war reparation fines with apparently little adjustment to their lavish lifestyle.

Malfoy again fumbled to open the car door. She sniggered, and he shot her an annoyed look before grabbing the Invisibility Cloak and stepping onto the pavement. The door on her side opened, and with renewed embarrassment, she slid to the end of the seat so that the driver could lift her out. No one else was about in the cool early morning air. Not even a breeze stirred.

They followed Malfoy up short stone steps leading to an oversized door of dark-stained wood inlaid with delicately etched glass. Malfoy fished a small set of keys from his pocket, which Ginny was amazed hadn't been lost during their ordeals. She found it equally surprising that entry to his flat merely required a mundane key.

He turned the lock and swung the door open before disappearing into the shadowy interiors. Carrying her, the driver paused uncertainly in the entryway. Seconds later, brilliant light flooded the space, revealing a spacious foyer with a grey marble floor polished to a mirror shine. The white stucco walls permeated a sterile, fresh-paint smell that spoke of the unused state of the flat.

Struck by the clarity of the lighting, she glanced upwards and realized the lit crystal chandelier was electric. _A Muggle building, and just when I thought this day couldn't possibly get any stranger. _However, with the Muggle present, satisfying her curiosity would have to wait.

Malfoy reappeared in a wide archway across from them and signaled with his hand. "Through here. You can set her on the sofa."

They entered a den that she had to admit was tastefully decorated in muted hues of blue and cream with accents of gold. It wasn't the gaudy, ostentatious display she'd expected. The driver chose a plush velvet couch of pale blue to set her down on and accepted her thanks before turning to leave. Malfoy dropped the Cloak on the seat beside her and followed him out.

_Wait, did Malfoy even know that the driver's service wasn't free?_ _Did he even have enough Muggle money? Shite._ "Do you need help? You have to pay the fare plus tip," she called out to his retreating back.

"Honestly, woman, I can count."

She sighed with relief and then chuckled, glad to have heard the mocking exasperation in his voice instead of tension and spite. As she waited, she leaned her side against the sofa's soft back and instantaneously felt ready to drift off again.

Moments later, his drawling voice stirred her from her exhausted daze. "You'll probably want to be awake for this."

She blinked and yawned widely as he approached with an ebony wand clasped in his left hand. She'd never been so relieved to see one in all her life.

"How are you with healing spells?" he asked.

"Pretty proficient. I got a lot of practice during the war." Images of the injured war victims floated into her head, and the familiar surreal sensation spread numbingly through her body. Another image flashed of a blood-streaked wall and an immobile body in an alleyway, and she hurriedly put a mental clamp on her mind's eye.

With an inexplicably grim expression, he handed her the wand. "Will you be splinting or attempting a healing?"

"Depends if the wand will work for me." The jolt of energy rushing up her arm the second she closed her fingers around the wand assured her that the wand was indeed agreeable. Ginny pointed it at a swollen ankle, still restrained by her shoe, but paused when she remembered. "I hope you know you have Muggle electric lighting in your flat. Are you aware of the risk of using magic here?"

Irritation flashed through his eyes. "For the hundredth time, I'm not an idiot. You're fine. It's all shielded."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "There are shields for that sort of thing?" Unable to help herself, she added, "What are you doing with a Muggle flat anyway? I thought a Malfoy would never be caught dead in one."

"Yes, and we also eat Muggles for breakfast and torture them in our spare time." He scowled. "The shields are my own invention and work perfectly, but obviously you still don't trust me because you won't even tell me your damn name, even after I'd saved your life. What are you so bloody afraid of?"

"That's not really fair. You weren't exactly eager to play savior. And I saved your hide, too, don't forget," she replied evenly as she made her decision. "I'll tell you who I am, but I guarantee you will shit a full-grown dragon when you find out."

A burst of laughter tore from him as if he couldn't help it. "I frankly cannot think of anyone you could be that would shock me _that_ much." He tilted his head, pretending to think, and smirked. "Well maybe if you turned out to be Harry Potter himself, but then I think I'd be more pleased than anything to find out Scar-head apparently enjoys cross-dressing and hating on himself."

The ridiculous mental image had her bursting out with laughter. _This_ was the snarky Malfoy she remembered from Hogwarts during those times he was carrying on for sport more than out of true malice. She remembered feeling horrible back then thinking that if his jokes hadn't been directed at her friends, she would've found them rather witty and funny. Sometimes, things really were a matter of perspective.

"On closer inspection though, there _is_ something oddly familiar about you."

She froze as his gaze swept over her body before lingering for an uncomfortable length of time scrutinizing her face. Briefly, she thought her Glamour had slipped, but the hair visible in her peripheral vision confirmed that she was still a brunette. From past experience though, she knew color changes were the last to go, though George would be happy to know his amulet exceeded expectations regardless, having been put through a rigorous field test he would've never dreamed of.

Abruptly, Malfoy propped his good hand on the seat and leaned in, bringing his face within inches of hers. "But I'm not in the mood for guessing games, so out with it. Who are you?"

He _really_ needed to learn to respect personal space. She placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back, mindful of his injury. "Let me fix my legs first in case I need to run afterwards."

"Seriously?"

Ginny ignored him as she focused on her ankles. She cast a brief-duration numbing charm first before following it with _Resarcio_. The particular healing spell was one of her specialties, which she'd been determined to perfect after her mortifying failure at the Department of Mystery. Even with the magical anesthetic she cast, blunted stabs of pain shot through her leg as bone and tendon brushed against nerves during the mending process. After several deep breaths, she repeated the process on her other ankle.

When the swelling dissipated and the pain had fully subsided, she swung her legs to the carpeted floor and gingerly put pressure on her soles. They tingled as the numbness wore off but otherwise felt as good as new. Thank god for magic. She sprung up and bounced lightly on her feet in relief.

Malfoy was still staring at her, his expression a strange mix of amusement and something nearly resembling respect. "I suppose you're all good now, so why don't you stop being so melodramatic and tell me who. You. Are."

Ginny took a calming breath and opened her mouth to answer, but a pop of Apparition had both spinning on their feet. She had the wand instantaneously drawn, a _Stupefy _half way out her lips when Malfoy shouted, "Stop!" and shoved her wand hand aside.

She froze, her eyes darting between him and their visitor in confusion. Before them stood a quivering house-elf. His milky blue eyes zeroed in on Malfoy, and in seconds, he rushed at the blond, nearly tripping in his haste.

"Master must leave! Right _now_. Master must not return to the Manor. Mistress says Master must go!"

The change over Malfoy was like watching the process of water freezing and melting condensed into seconds. He stiffened down to the strands of his hair before dissolving immediately into an unrestrained state of panic—a thoroughly jarring sight. With eyes turning nearly as round as globes, Malfoy gripped the house-elf's shoulder, digging in hard with his shaking fingers. The poor creature cringed in pain.

"What happened? Is she alright? Is my father?" His words came thick, struggling to get past the emotions choking his throat.

"No time!" cried the house-elf, growing increasingly frantic. "Mistress says go right to the Spot. Portkey will be there. Go now!"

"Tell me what happened. Tipsy, I command that you tell me!"

Ginny knew it would be no use. House-elves were stubborn in following their original orders through to the letter, and it was likely that his parents' authority superseded his anyway.

Tipsy merely repeated himself and began tugging Malfoy forward by gripping his trousers at the knee. Malfoy pulled back, hurling abuses at the creature.

Ginny gripped his left shoulder and tried to calm him. Though she understood his distress, she knew him carrying on angrily would only be wasting time. "Stop, Malfoy. This isn't going to help."

He inhaled deeply, shuddering under her hand. "You're right," he breathed out and straightened up, letting go of the house-elf. "Tipsy, I will leave so go back to the Manor and do what you can for my parents," he said with false calmness.

Tipsy shook his head furiously in the negative. Ginny tightened her grip on Malfoy, worried he might just physically maul the house-elf.

"Mistress says Tipsy must stay and help Master. No more time! Master must _go_."

"Fine," he gritted out and turned to yank the wand from her fingers, which he then swiftly transferred to his right hand.

"Malfoy, wait!" But he didn't, leaving her only enough time to latch onto his arm before she felt the violent tug and suffocating pressure of her body being compressed through an infinitesimal tube. Instantaneous as the snap of a rubber band, the tube split open and spat her out onto a grassy field. She gulped in mouthfuls of cool morning air as the disorientation of Apparating cleared. Around them, the green landscape of what she guessed to be Wiltshire rolled gently out into the horizon.

_But where's Malfoy?_

She spun on her feet, frantically scanning the scene. A pained moan drew her gaze to the ground where he lay curled on his left side, face contorted in agony. His eyes were scrunched up tight, his hands fisted. Beads of sweat broke across his pallid brow while his body shivered uncontrollably.

_Shite._ Her first instinct was to take him straight to St. Mungo's, but she wasn't sure he could survive Apparition in his current state.

"Who's the idiot now," she muttered as she rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside him after grabbing the dropped wand by his hand. With a _Relashio_, her cardigan unknotted itself. She peeled the garment back, breathing heavily at the caked, bloodied mass underneath.

"_Diffindo_," she whispered, brushing the wand along the length of his shirt, well outside the wound area, while being careful to focus solely on the fabric. A seam tore neatly down the cotton material. Her wand tip moved to tap gently at the blood stain, which dissipated with an uttered _Tergeo_ and allowed her to cleanly pull the ripped shirt away from the wound.

Ginny inhaled sharply at what lay underneath, unable to shake the sense that something was terribly wrong. She expected the puncture wound covered by coagulated blood, but not the faint, sickly purple light glowing around its edges. Regardless, treatment of Muggle weapon injuries was far beyond her capabilities. She could only offer temporary relief to Malfoy. A localized anesthetic spell proved ineffective, forcing her to try something stronger.

"_Nakortium_," she uttered with a precise counter-clock swish of the wand. The Sedative Spell left the wand tip in a trail of blue vapor and coiled tightly above the injured area before sinking into the skin. Several seconds later, Malfoy's body stilled. His face relaxed slightly, but his eyes remained closed, brows furrowed in concentration.

"Reduce the spell," he said tersely.

"Malfoy, you're in no shape to go after them. Look what just happened. If you think you can manage it, I'll Apparate us to St. Mungo's, and we can call for Law Enforcement help from there."

"Don't you fucking dare." Malfoy pushed off the ground, struggling against the lethargy of the spell to sit up. He managed to turn around and clasp his fingers around the wand, though he lacked the strength to pull it from her grip.

"It's _my_ life and my _wand,_" he forced through his teeth. "And I'm not wasting a fucking second going anywhere, especially not to get help from people who couldn't care less if my family is dead. Come off it. Your righteous arse would do the bloody same." Though she was sure he meant to sound angered, in his tone was the closest she'd ever heard to a Malfoy begging, and he was right, if her parents were in potential danger, nothing but death could stand in her way. She shuddered, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

Relenting, she lessened the Sedative Spell's effects. Malfoy seemed to have regained full mental control of the pain for he didn't relapse but leapt to his feet, tugging off the torn scraps of his shirt. She stood up after him and tried to reign in her fluster at the sight of his naked chest. A wholly incongruous thought flashed in her mind. _When had he gotten so fit?_ She hurriedly banished the inquiry to the mental trash pile of things that didn't matter.

"But what in Merlin's name do you plan to do?" she asked as she waved her wand to properly bandage his wound. "You're good for one spell at most."

To her astonishment, he replied frankly, almost brokenly, "I—I don't know."

When the bandaging was completed, he shoved his good hand through his hair, grasping violently at the blond strands, and kicked furiously at the turf. "Goddamn it. I can't—I can't be failing them—_again_." He looked quickly away from her but not before she caught the wet sheen rimming his eyes. Neither did she miss the angry swipe of his hand at his cheek. She was starkly reminded of the Pensieve memory submitted as evidence in Malfoy's trial, the one in which a sixteen-year-old boy stood on the Astronomy Tower nearly sick with fear and the impossible weight of the task before him.

She realized she'd never had to bear a burden like that—not like Malfoy and Harry did in the war. She'd always been peripheral to the action, and the one time she wasn't, she'd acted horrendously selfish. That stain on her life would never go away. Bombarded with these thoughts while standing alone in a field with Malfoy, Ginny had never felt more inadequate in all her life. Just how superior was she really compared to the man before her?

He looked back at her, clearly straining to hold his composure. "I only ask that you cast a Disillusionment Charm for me. Hurry. Cast one for yourself too if you want because I obviously will need the wand. After that, I'll show you which way to get to the closest Wizarding residence."

"You seem strangely trusting that I wouldn't just take off with your wand."

"You won't," he replied coolly before scowling. "Hurry up."

Briefly, she debated defying him—to get away and get back with help. But what if no one took her seriously? It struck her how ridiculous it would seem for a random stranger to abruptly show up at the Ministry and demand help for the Malfoys, even more so if she revealed herself as Ginny Weasley. And if they acted too late then...Again her choice was an easy one. "I'm coming with you. You can thank my righteous arse later."

His surprise was apparent, but his desperation for once overrode the pride she imagined would've normally objected to her involvement.

One, two, the charms were cast, blending them in with their surroundings. He reached for her wrist before she even asked, her hand being occupied with the wand, and they were off running through the Wiltshire countryside. A sense of déjà vu flashed through her mind, recalling their earlier flight through abandoned streets.

"Do you think we're fated to do this for the rest of our lives?" she asked jokingly, trying to take the edge off the dread coiling tighter and tighter in her stomach. What would they be up against? How much longer could their already shitty luck be expected to last?

In response, he gave a bark of half-hearted laughter.

She'd expected to run for some time, but after only a few yards the expanse of empty land before them shimmered into the imposing outlines of what could only be Malfoy Manor, rising above an endless stretch of tall thorny hedges directly in front of them. Malfoy bolted straight at the thorny obstructions without slowing down. She trusted him to know what he was doing but couldn't help cringing seconds before he'd tugged her through. Instead of stinging pain, it felt like she'd plunged through a sheet of icy water, but the shock to her body disappeared in an instant.

Malfoy halted on the other side. Taking his silent cue, she quietly uttered a _Muffliato_ so they could speak discretely.

"The main objective is to see if my parents are safe. They might have managed to escape on their own. If we find them, try to Side-Along Apparate all of us out if possible. If you can only take one,"—he paused and swallowed hard—"go for my mother, please."

"Don't you have wards preventing Apparition?" she asked in confusion.

"In, yes. Out, no. We tweaked the wards after the end of the war." She noted the reality implicit in his statement—that the Malfoys saw the need to be able to escape at a moment's notice.

She stared out at the expansive grounds between them and the massive main building of the manor. No one else was about, at least not anyone visible to the unaided eye. "How will we find your parents? This place is fucking huge."

He was already tugging her towards the building. "I know where they should be if everything is fine. If they're not there then—then they'll either have escaped or…"

His voice trailed off and remained silent, but there was no need to press him to finish the thought. They'd worry about it when it came.

"What do you think we're up against?" she whispered as they jogged across the dew-covered lawn, flitting between the covers of trees, bushes, and the occasional sculpture.

"I don't know," he admitted frankly, his voice nearly a growl. "Could be the wizards from earlier, though I doubt it. Could be any number of people who hate us. We're certainly not lacking in enemies."

Under Malfoy's direction, they entered the house from an outside cellar door, unlocked with crude blood magic that required her to slice then heal Malfoy's hand. By the light of her wand, they descended into the dark belly of the Manor. The deeper they went, the more furiously she swore in her head as she fought her creeping panic, determined to keep it from manifesting itself in any apparent way.

After the last step in the stone staircase, she quickly lost all sense of direction as Malfoy pulled her left and right through mildewy corridors carved out of solid rock. The echoes of their footsteps were deafening in the tomb-like silence, and besides the sharp plinking of dripping water, there were no other noises. Sporadic patches of wet moss on the stone-paved ground made the going treacherous, and the precise mental map Malfoy seemed to be following meant their pace had to slow to a brisk walk when she would've preferred to simply dash through.

_Wet, dark, and cold. Check, check, and check. Oh fuck._

In their eagerness to hope for the best, her family and friends had been quick to judge by her outward manner that she was no worse for wear after the Chamber incident. Ginny didn't blame them, not when she'd been keen to believe the same.

Desperate for any distraction to keep the unwanted memories at bay, she longed to ask why the Malfoys had a bloody maze under their house, but the appearance of rusting bars marking off a dungeon cell promptly answered her question.

With each step, it became increasingly difficult to keep her mind clear. The dark history of the place seemed to seep from the very walls, wrapping around her shoulders like a tangible presence as their own shadows appeared to stalk them with sinister intentions. She shivered, though it was less from the actual chill of their surroundings than from the specters of her mind.

Malfoy let go of her wrist, and to her mortification, she nearly cried out in panic, but a second later she felt the solidness of his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.

"I've always hated being down here," he muttered, barely audibly.

She didn't know if his gesture was meant to reassure her, but not wanting to acknowledge her own nerves, she didn't comment. However, she didn't bother to pull away either. In the light of day, it might've been awkward, but in the dank darkness, she had to admit it calmed her to have his warmth close.

With no way to keep track of time, it felt like a small eternity until he nudged her onto a narrow winding staircase set into the wall. Holding the wand, she went ahead with him right on her heels.

"_Nox_ your wand when we come to a dead end at the top and cast a _Muffliato_," he whispered to her as they ascended. "I'll guide your hand to where you need to tap the stone. There should be a curtain covering the exit on the other side. I'll squeeze your wrist as a signal to slip out as discreetly as you can. If there's no immediate threat, sneak around what guards might be present and move towards my parents. Grab a hold of me, and I'll signal to my mother. When you see that she has a firm grip on my father, Apparate us out. If chaos ensues,"—a barely perceptible tremble seeped into his voice—"I'll be the distraction. Get my parents out. If you can't get both, then like I said, go for my mother."

Thighs aching, Ginny had almost begun to think the staircase had taken them on a magical loop when they finally reached a dead-end landing. The light blinked out with her _Nox_, which was swiftly followed by a _Muffliato_.

Pressed uncomfortably up behind her, he reached around her waist and across her front to grip her wrist. They both seemed to freeze for a split-second, and then he was whispering haltingly into her ear, "Thank you. I owe you one."

Ginny shook her head to clear her shock. "Then make sure you survive to pay it back," she hissed. It felt peculiar to realize how much she meant it.

He guided her wand to tap in a complex pattern across the stone blocks. Silently, the wall folded in on itself revealing a drape covered opening. Pale morning light leaked in around the edges.

She blinked to adjust her eyes. For a moment, neither moved, both listening hard with bated breath. There was a faint ticking of a clock and a creak that might've been a footstep on squeaky boards, but then again, maybe it was just the standard noises of an ancient house. Another heavy second crawled past before he firmly squeezed her wrist.

The heavy velvet drape hiding the entryway was set slightly apart from the wall, creating a narrow space that she slowly attempted to slip through without ruffling the fabric. What she saw once her head cleared the curtain rendered all of Draco's directions obsolete.

There was no one in the massive bedroom. The enormous four-poster bed was unmade; its covers were rashly thrown to one side as if its occupants had exited in a hurry or had been—

"_No_," the strangled cry tore from Malfoy's throat, but there was no time for her to speak, no time for any other plans, because in the next instant she felt the rush of something swooping low over her, draping her in its cold shadow.

_Homenum Revelio_.

The recognition had barely clicked before the main doors burst open. Ginny sprung into action, rolling behind a nearby wardrobe for cover as she shot a flurry of Stunners towards the doorway.

Frantic, indistinguishable shouts came from the corridor beyond. Someone threw a spherical shaped object into the room that shattered on the floor only a few yards from her hiding spot. A pink cloud billowed from the point of impact, rapidly expanding into every corner of the room. She plastered herself against the wall and with one arm, covered her nose and mouth against the advancing tendrils of pink vapor. Her wand was tightly clutched in the other hand as her mind frantically tried to figure out what to do.

In the seconds remaining, she attempted a handful of Shielding Spells, but the pink cloud rolled relentlessly through and smothered her completely. She held her breath for as long as she could, expecting to feel either pain or an immediate blackout. Instead, a steam-hot melting sensation coated her skin as she watched her arms shimmer back into visibility. Simultaneously, the amulet began heating up against her chest.

Her instincts took over, forcing her to sharply inhale. It was like breathing in fire. She dropped to the floor in an uncontrollable coughing fit. The passages of her lungs, throat, and nose burned like they were being pricked by white-hot needles. Her eyes watered, obscuring her vision of the pink fog, but she could hear another spasm of coughing nearby.

"_Expelliarmus_!" shouted an unfamiliar voice followed by the pounding of running footsteps.

The wand tore from her grasp, but Ginny couldn't even cease coughing to acknowledge the loss. She clutched at her chest and pounded the floor with her fist in a desperate attempt to regain control, cursing furiously in her head. _What the hell are we in for now?_

The pink haze faded from her watery vision. A silver-white light shot towards her, but this time, she lacked the control of her limbs to dodge. It hit her squarely in the chest right as she looked up, and instantly, a cooling balm coated her airways. She blinked to clear her sight, and the vision of several wands pointed right at her sprung terrifyingly into focus.

But then her gaze traveled up the length of the wands to their owners, and stunned confusion crashed upon her like a breaking wave. She blinked, but the scene remained the same—scarlet robes, the familiar bronze emblem pinned on their chest—they could only belong to Aurors.

However, her present shock was nothing compared to what jolted through her upon hearing the words that next resounded through the room.

"Draco Malfoy, you are hereby under arrest on suspicion of aiding and abetting war criminals and conspiracy against the state."

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

Hoping to hear what your reactions were to this chapter! I know I'm being such a tease about the reveal, but it's really just around the corner. Things should be picking up now in general. The revision process takes a while for this story as I go through a couple drafts with my beta-reader before it gets posted. It takes longer, but I hope you'll find the end product more polished for it. I'm trying to write further ahead to help pick up the update pace.

Also, do let me know how I'm doing with Draco and Ginny's characterization. In this story, Draco is very much rooted in canon, which I think book six and seven made clear that he's not Voldemort 2.0, but I have no intention of making him into a Muggle-loving, fluff-ball either. And thank you so much for all the feedback so far. Hearing from you gets me all fired up to write and improve, even through the rough patches.


	10. Chapter 10: A Desperate Gamble

**Chapter 10: A Desperate Gamble**

While some small part of Ginny shouted at her to act, she could barely even breathe as it were, much less think or speak.

The Auror's words echoed in her mind, but the repetition did nothing for her comprehension. Her eyes frantically swept the room while her body remained rigid, though that was more out of shock than out of true wariness for the wands still pointed at her. She recognized many of the faces, having sporadically dined and socialized with them by Harry's side, and never had it crossed her mind that she might end up on the receiving end of their wands.

_Mother of Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?_

"Secure the perimeters, check the wards, and prepare to move out," came the rough order from the severe and towering Gawain Robards, the current no-nonsense Head of the Auror Office. If it was important enough for him to be here, then...shite.

"And the woman?" spoke the stern-faced wizard directly to her front—_Auror Savage_, her memory supplied.

"Probably an accomplice. Arrest her too and keep an eye on her until we're ready to leave."

At Robards' command, Savage flicked his wand and a rope-like coil of white light snaked around her wrists, binding them stiffly together and weighing them down as if they were shackled to an old-fashioned iron ball. She watched on with barely any physical reaction. The whole situation had strayed beyond surreal. Reality and her comprehension of it clashed like oil and water, leaving her feeling like a mere spectator to the unfolding events.

Another spell sunk hotly into her kneeling legs, gluing them to the plush Persian carpet underneath. Vaguely she registered a droning voice stating rights and arrest procedures to her, but it was hard to concentrate on anything over the panic ramming her thudding heart into her throat. It was the stark weight of her new bindings when she fruitlessly tried to lift her hands that finally jolted Ginny from her paralysis.

"You've—you've got it all wrong," she scrambled to tell her guard, words tripping over each other in her rush to explain. "Let me go! I didn't do anything! Don't you know who I am?" Inwardly, she cringed. She _hated _pulling the girlfriend-of-Harry-Potter card, but things were nothing if not desperate.

Auror Savage's unimpressed stare answered her with an emphatic _no_. "Save it for the defense," he told her bluntly.

And judging by the responses of the other Aurors milling around the room, no one else seemed to have recognized her either. _But how could they not? _No wizard in London could know of Harry and _not_ know of her.

_The Glamour_, she realized with a gasp. But that pink cloud thing...it removed the Disillusionment Charm, so she'd assumed...

She'd felt the last of the amulet's magic drain away and thought its protection had broken, but what if—no, it wasn't even much of a speculation. Every last spark of its magic must have been used to shield the Glamour instead. Apparently, her shitty luck continued. Of all the rare times for a new invention of George to work perfectly, it had to be now.

She took a deep breath and tried again to convince her guard. "No, really. You don't understand. I'm still under a Glamour. Just try a counter spell. You'll see that I'm really Gin—"

He cut her off impatiently. "Like that's never been heard before. Distraction tactics are useless here, so save your breath. Lying will only further the charges against you, and if you insist on being a disturbance, we have every right to Silence you. This is your last warning."

_No, no, _NO_. This _can't _be happening. _

But her guard's grim face left no doubt that he would follow through, and she wasn't eager to lose her only ability to clear her name; who knew how long they'd throw her in jail for until they got around to questioning her. She would have to be patient until the right person and opportunity came along—hopefully it would be sooner rather than later.

_Oh Merlin, why? _Apparently, being nearly shot and choked to death wasn't enough. Now she was to be thrown in prison too, all within one bloody day. For the millionth time, she had to ask: _Fates and gods above_, _whatever the hell have I done to deserve this?_

All she could think of was that she had the misfortune to have been caught up in Malfoy's affairs.

_What exactly had he done to bring the Aurors' wrath on them, anyway?_ Her eyes searched the room for the blond as more maddening, unanswerable questions swarmed her mind. _Were the charges true?_ _Had he really—damn it. None of it made sense!_

Not all that long ago she would've taken the Aurors at their word without a doubt, but events surrounding the war had irreversibly broken her ready trust in authority figures, yet maybe even as late as yesterday she still wouldn't have thought to question the charges against Malfoy. With their recent interactions fresh in her mind though, she couldn't ignore the way things simply didn't add up. Giving credit where credit was due—Malfoy wasn't an idiot; far from it, in fact. The nature of the whole capture unsettled her; it was just _too _neat and tidy. Then again, how and why were the Aurors here? _Have I been played, or has Malfoy?_

All thoughts halted when an Auror stepped out of the way, revealing the slumped form of her fellow captive beyond. An alarm lashed through Ginny that had nothing to do with the Aurors present.

Malfoy looked bad, _really bad_—worse even than at any point during their earlier ordeals. His skin had turned from sickly pale to deathly translucent. She knew that blue-mottled pallor all too well, the memories of rows upon rows of the dead and dying leaping out starkly in her mind's eye as if the final battle was only yesterday.

Malfoy lay on the side of his good arm, his black-clad legs curled under him, hands bound in the same manner as hers. His eyes were shuttered, his chest heaving with labored breaths. Two Aurors of bulky build had been stationed to watch him. Another witch, tall with blond spiked hair, hovered over Malfoy's body, wrapping up what Ginny recognized was a basic Diagnosis Spell. The readings in the air remained a steady serene blue in color, indicating that all vital signs were stable. Regardless, it failed to put Ginny at ease. She knew from experience that basic, magical diagnoses were far from fool-proof, especially when physical signs indicated otherwise. When the witch switched the spell off and strode away, the guards did nothing more but stare at Malfoy's slightly trembling body with utter scorn.

_I'm barely holding it together as it is, _the memory of his pain-stricken voice shuddered through her head. She had always been a person of instinct, and presently, her gut was screaming at her to get Malfoy immediate help. Whatever was going on would matter little if he ended up dying. If she acted, and the Aurors were wrong, then an innocent life was saved. If they were right, then Malfoy would live to serve the appropriate sentence and her conscience would still be clear. If she didn't act and the worse happened, it would haunt her even if this was Malfoy, and damn it, she already had enough regrets to plague her for a lifetime.

She turned back to her guard, but Robards' gruff voice cut her off before she got a word out.

"We're done here. Watchers, to your stations. The rest of you head to the off-site base and await further instructions."

In a split-second, Auror Savage painfully seized her arm while muttering the counter-spell for her legs.

Guessing the Aurors' intentions, she twisted in her captor's grip and shouted frantically in Malfoy's direction. "Don't Apparate him!"

They didn't give her a second more to explain before her world went black with the squeeze of Apparition.

She hit the floor on the other side, panicked but alert, her eyes immediately scanning the spacious office for Malfoy. A second later, he appeared with his two guards only a foot from her. She hissed in outrage when they simply dumped him on his face on the checkered tiled floor and instinctively moved to crouch beside him, but her guard firmly yanked her back up.

"He's hurt," she snapped at her captor, and then repeated it louder for all the other Aurors to hear. "You're going to _kill _him if you don't get him to St. Mungo's right bloody now!"

But no one was paying her any mind. Some had immediately left while about a half-dozen remained, talking urgently amongst themselves. She felt her mounting rage about to burst while underneath fear writhed in her stomach like a pit of agitated vipers. The gut-sense that something was terribly wrong had rarely been so palpable.

"Listen! You have to—"

A loud bang cut over her words, and every Auror in the room pivoted towards the source of the noise, wands instantly drawn. The force of being pushed open had slammed the entry doors back against the walls. To her shock, striding in was none other than Harry and Ron.

Harry was livid, his green eyes burning hot and bright with anger as he charged straight for Robards. "Why didn't you tell me you were going after him? Beyond failing to tell me, you deliberately hid the mission from me. I could've helped!"

The Auror Office Head crinkled his brow in annoyance. "Last time I checked, Potter, you weren't a certified Auror to be cleared for actual missions."

"Like that means anything." Harry scowled. "I have just as much legitimate field experience, if not more, than any of your Aurors."

Having recovered from the surprising arrivals of both her fiancé and brother, Ginny watched avidly as the quarrel escalated, waiting for a clear break to catch either Harry's or Ron's attention. She couldn't risk it only to be ignored, especially if her guard decided to Silence her for the effort.

Robards' eyes narrowed in response to Harry, the irises glinting dark and sharp as obsidian. "This is much bigger than you, Potter. You've yet to convince me that you have the emotional control and level-headedness necessary to stick to orders and not endanger others, to say nothing of your overconfidence in your own abilities. You'll do well not to let your incredibly lucky run go to your head because I _promise _you that one day fate won't be so kind."

Fists clenched, Harry gritted out, "You're only doing this because you're afraid I'll show you up and jostle you out of a job."

Audible gasps rippled through the room, though not from Ginny. She'd known exactly how Harry would respond; they weren't much different in that way. A flash of fresh irritation streaked through her mind at the reminder of Harry's hypocritical expectation that she just hide out at home while he was off hunting Death Eaters.

Ron grimaced and placed a placating hand on Harry's arm. "Easy there, mate."

Robards sneered before relaxing his posture, his expression becoming the very picture of bored contempt. "A demerit for insubordination," he said, pinning Harry with his gaze. "If memory serves, that makes two this term so far, Potter. One more and you face suspension from the program."

She knew well that hateful glare from Harry—it was the one he used to so often level at Snape and Malfoy all through their school years.

Robards continued coolly, "I do not fail to acknowledge the great deeds you've accomplished thus far, but you will get no special treatment from me. Isn't that what _you_ told me you wanted in the first place? If you think you have a legitimate claim of unfair treatment, by all means, take it up with the Council. Now, if you will excuse us, there is a substantial amount of real work to be done."

In the lull of awkward silence, Ginny spotted her chance.

"Harry, Ron! It's me!"

Every pair of eyes in the room zoomed in on her. Even Malfoy had managed to raise his head, though with his eyes still scrunched in pain, only a sliver of his grey irises was visible.

"It's me, Ginny, Ginny Weasley. They've made a mistake!"

"Ginny?" both Ron and Harry cried out in astonishment. They recognized her voice, she was sure of it, and from their stunned stares, she knew they must have instantly picked out the facial resemblances in spite of the wrong coloring. Briefly, her eyes flicked back over to Malfoy, unable to help the curiosity as to _his_ reaction, but his head had slumped back onto the floor, hiding his expressions against the checkered tiles—that was, if he'd been conscious enough through the pain to register what she'd said.

There was no time to find out more. The warning tone in Auror Savage's voice drew her gaze back up to find nearly every Auror in the room drawing their wand on her once again. "Careful, Potter. She was found with Malfoy. Don't know what she intends to do, but last I checked, Ginny Weasley was a brown-eyed redhead. We used the highest grade Veritas Powder on them. It should've scrubbed every last magical disguise clean."

"Well it didn't bloody work," she snapped, mind racing as to how to prove herself. She needed to provide convincing details and fast. "Harry, please, trust me. How many other people would know about your _other _scar—the one on the left cheek of your arse? I teased you about how it resembles the shape of England, remember?"

More than one Auror choked back a snort.

Harry's cheeks flushed scarlet, and he spluttered, "H-how did you know? And impossible, Ginny's home. I made sure of that."

"But blimey, she does look awfully like Ginny," Ron said in disbelief.

For Godric's sake, how dimwitted and slow could they be? She glanced over to check on Malfoy. His position remained unchanged, but his body lay utterly still, no longer wracked by tremors. For all she knew, he'd fallen unconscious by now. The thought only further heightened her worries into a strained pitch. She couldn't hold her temper back.

"Bloody idiots, Unglamour me right now, and there's your proof!"

With a frown, Harry raised his wand. In relief, Ginny could have sung his praises, their current tiff momentarily brushed aside. _Thank Merlin, Harry._

"Don't even think about it, Potter," Robards growled, which she knew guaranteed that Harry would. The _Finite Incantatem _left Harry's lips before Robards had even finished speaking.

The air shuddered with a collective gasp. Even Robards was too stunned to reprimand Harry for deliberately disobeying orders. In a flash, Harry and Ron were by her side. Her sore wrists sighed in relief as Ron cast the specific counter-spell to unbind her, but then they were bombarding her with a million questions a minute as she kneeled down beside Malfoy's prone body.

Robards recovered enough to demand, "What is the meaning of this? Potter, Weasley, step away. She's still under suspicion. Why on earth were you at Malfoy Manor, Ginny Weasley, and under disguise for that matter?"

"Nothing to do with the Death Eaters if that's what you're concerned about," she spat, irritated at his implication. "If you don't recall, they tried to kill me and my family, sir. I can explain later, but Malfoy needs a Healer's attention immediately if you don't want a dead captive on your hands. Someone needs to take him to St. Mungo's at once."

"No one is going anywhere until you explain yourself," the Head Auror growled.

Meanwhile, she'd been checking Malfoy's pulse—it was disturbingly erratic. And his breath had taken on an unsettling, rasping sound. Her instincts screamed at her to get going. She stared at the hardened, doubtful faces around her, and it became clear; they weren't about to listen to her anytime soon, not even Harry and Ron, who were still insistently demanding the who's, what's, and why's from her. So as she'd always done when backed into a corner, Ginny threw caution to the wind.

Harry should've known better, should've predicted her move, but fortunately for her, in addition to underestimating her, Harry didn't have much direct experience with her brand of defiance. Hence, he failed to catch the tell-tale glint of determination in her eye right before she snatched his wand from him and Apparated herself and Malfoy away, consequences be damned.

As a result of her intensive volunteer stint there in the summer months following the war, Ginny knew her way around St. Mungo's far better than the average visitor, even more so because the heavy load of casualties and a shortage of staff led the hospital to grant her duties and security clearance they wouldn't have normally given a volunteer. Hoping to throw the Aurors off their trail just long enough to bar their interference, she Apparated directly into the ECZ—the Emergency Call Zone. Only medical staff were supposed to know of it. On-call Healers arrived there to be briefed and directed to whatever emergency had popped up.

Sitting behind a large oak desk, the waiting receptionist, a matronly witch with a bob of salt-and-pepper hair, started at the sight of Ginny. The two male guards in cerulean robes flanking the desk disarmed her instantly, but she'd been prepared for their response and raised both hands up to indicate she meant no harm.

"You're not supposed to—" the receptionist's eyes narrowed then widened in recognition. "Ginny! I didn't know you were volunteering here again." The guards appeared to also remember her for they relaxed their stance and gave her back her wand.

The confrontation defused, Ginny cut straight to the emergency at hand, addressing the familiar receptionist by name. "No time to explain, Edna. Call for Healer Clarke immediately. If he isn't available, then Healer Blackwell. Hurry." Both were Muggle-born and known for pioneering methods that blended Muggle medical know-how with magic. She could only hope they were also adequately knowledgeable about the effect of Muggle weapons on magical bodies.

Edna leaned over her desk and only then spotted the body lying still beside Ginny. "Oh dear," she said and spun to face the rows upon rows of compact-sized multi-way mirrors mounted on the wall behind her. Without hesitation, she tapped a manicured finger against a mirror towards the center and spoke into it. "Attention: Calling Healer Clarke and team to the ECZ. Code Basilisk. I repeat: Calling..."

With nothing more to do but wait, Ginny's body shook almost imperceptibly as her head cooled, leaving her to face the fearful prospect of having made the wrong choice. What if the Apparition had made things worse than if he'd been left to the Aurors' decisions? But if she hadn't acted, maybe the outcome would've been the same anyway. All she could do was trust that her gut instinct had steered true.

"Don't you dare die on me, Malfoy," she muttered fiercely. "You've no right to make me feel guilty over you."

Her head snapped up at the piercing ding of the lift's door opening. The short, rotund form of Healer Clarke stepped into the room. Beneath a balding head of sandy-colored hair, his keen blue eyes immediately scrutinized the scene. A witch and a wizard, both towering over Clarke by a head, followed him out from the lift, all dressed in lime green robes.

Recognition and surprise splashed across the Healer's face when he spotted Ginny before his expression turned severe at the sight of the body beside her. Diagnosis questions flew from his lips even before he reached her side at a run. If any of them recognized Malfoy in his battered state, they didn't show it. Not that it would matter. She knew Healer Clarke would do his best even for someone who'd personally tried to kill him if the bloke came into his care.

As the assistants levitated Malfoy and maneuvered him into the lift, Ginny scrambled to explain to the Healer what had happened, fighting to keep her voice calm. "He got shot in the back with a Muggle gun, but something is weird about the wound. I don't know if it's his magic reacting strangely or what, but it's been glowing with this purple light—"

Healer Clarke stumbled beside her, but when she reached out a hand to stabilize him, he shrugged her off impatiently.

She looked back in alarm at his suddenly ashen face. "What is it?"

He didn't respond right away and instead mumbled, seemingly to himself, "I knew it. I _knew_ it." As the lift's door closed for their descent, he dug a silver compact from his robes and tapped it with his wand until it glowed pink before flipping the cover open. "Blackwell, Blackwell!" he shouted into the mirror. "I'm headed to my ward, Healing Room Epsilon. Get there immediately if you're not in an emergency. We have another one. I repeat, we have another one."

"_What?"_ came the disbelieving gasp through the mirror, but Healer Clarke snapped the compact close without explaining further. The lift dinged open a second after, and he bustled out, grabbing her upper arm and pulling her along. She threw a glance over her shoulder, only slightly assured to see the assistants close on their heels, pulling a levitated Malfoy along.

Beside her, Healer Clarke was speaking rapidly, his voice growing increasingly agitated and breathless by the second. "Ginny, listen. If I'm right, this could be very serious indeed. How was your friend shot, and by whom?"

_Oh Merlin, where to even begin?_ "I didn't know them—the Muggles who shot him, I mean. We were abducted. Well, not by them, but they were guarding us and shot at us when we tried to escape."

Healer Clarke inhaled sharply beside her, his grip on her arm turning vise-like. "The shooter _has_ to be found," he said. "Have you told the authorities? Do you know enough to track down the perpetrator?"

"N—no. I don't even know where they took us."

Without a strong sense of place and only dimly lit, terror-stricken memories of abandoned buildings to go by, she knew it'd be dangerous with slim chances of success to even try Apparating back. Besides, what use would it be to track the gunman down? The Healer's insistence puzzled her. Surely he knew the Ministry had no jurisdiction over Muggles, and she had yet to mention the wizards involved.

"Malfoy might know, but of course he's..." She looked back over her shoulder.

Though it was wildly uncharacteristic of him, Healer Clarke swore and lapsed into silence. However, it didn't last long.

"Actually, no. That might be all for the best. What was I thinking?" He turned his head to face her again, and would've run into another Healer exiting a room if Ginny hadn't tugged him to the side. Despite this, he spoke on without batting an eye. "How long has it been since he was shot?"

"I—I don't know exactly. Sometime late last night or early this morning would be my guess. It took us a while to get away."

The Healer's eyes sprung wide, and he sped up his pace even more, dragging her along at nearly a run. "Listen, Ginny, I need you to try to remember everything about the incident in excruciating detail. I highly suspect your friend is in critical danger at the moment, so I don't have time to explain, but whatever happens, we will and _must_ have a talk afterwards. This is bigger than you can possibly imagine."

Her mind's attempt to grapple with his words was like trying to snatch at a frantic, darting Snitch. It was hard enough just to concentrate on keeping up with his hurried pace without stumbling and falling. _What the hell was going on? _One thing just seemed to snowball into the next without an answer in sight.

"But you can heal him, right?"

"We'll do our best," he replied grimly.

The knot of dread in her stomach tightened almost painfully.

At the end of a hallway, the Healer stopped and nudged her towards a cushioned bench. "You can wait here if you'd like. If you need to go elsewhere, take this with you." He handed her a white compact, similar in size and shape to his silver one from earlier, engraved with St. Mungo's emblem of a wand crossed with a bone, which she tucked into the pocket of her jeans. Without any further explanation, the Healer turned to face the creamy expanse of wall beside the bench and with a downward slash of his wand, quickly uttered, "_Divido et Revelo_."

All in a second, the smooth plaster surface quivered and split with a hiss like hot steam from an engine, revealing a pale blue door. A large epsilon symbol glowed with a golden light down its front.

This short stretch of seemingly empty corridor, she knew, housed more rooms than could be seen. The entry to any of them could be revealed at any point along the walls and then hidden again for another room's door to be called in its place as needed. This bit of magical engineering in the newer parts of St. Mungo's allowed for the simultaneous usage of multiple rooms within a much smaller physical space, helping to keep the scale of the hospital from getting out of hand and increasing the efficiency at which Healers could move from patient to patient. At its busiest, even if more people from different rooms wanted to enter and exit than there were spaces for doors, the wait time was negligible.

Healer Clarke tapped his wand against the glowing epsilon, sending out blue sparks from the tip. At the recognition of his magical signature, the door flashed green and opened for him. Without another word, he disappeared through it with his assistants and Malfoy.

Left behind, Ginny fell onto the bench, physically, emotionally, and mentally drained as she'd only ever remembered being once before in her entire life. It was an experience she'd hoped and expected to never repeat. _So much for that._ Worry and confusion continued to gnaw relentlessly at her, but she determinedly put the countless questions she couldn't possibly answer on her own out of mind. There were too many other immediate concerns to deal with as it was.

The aches and other body grievances she didn't have the luxury to acknowledge earlier now clamored for her undivided attention. Her throat burned with thirst; her stomach ached for food. She felt grimy and sticky all over with sweat and dirt. Countless bruises and cuts throbbed anew, but even all this was overwhelmed by a mind-numbing exhaustion bowling her over with the abruptness and force of an unforeseen Bludger. There was nothing, nothing she wanted more in that moment than to lay down and give in to sweet oblivion.

But she couldn't, not fought against the beckoning fatigue, knowing she needed to get going and clear up the mess she'd made before the whole country was on a witch-hunt for her. If they weren't already, that was.

She forced herself at last to stand. The world tilted, sending her swaying unsteadily on her feet. Gravity showed no mercy and threw her sideways, but its efforts were thwarted when a pair of slim but strong arms grasped her shoulders, holding her steady.

A melodic voice with an American accent cut through her hazy mind. "Goodness, I thought it was you."

Her vision stopped spinning, and she focused in on the clear violet eyes staring back at her framed by hair pulled messily into a bun. "Healer Blackwell," she breathed out.

The Healer tutted in concern and firmly pushed Ginny back down onto the bench. Frown lines deepened in her face when she glanced over at the Epsilon door_. _"Drat, there's no time. I can't tend to you myself, but stay here." She wagged a stern finger at Ginny. "I'll have someone sent your way."

She too disappeared through the pale blue door, but only a short moment later, even before Ginny could fully attempt to defy the Healer's orders, another staff member turned the corner into her hallway. Ginny could tell by the canary yellow robes that the young woman striding briskly towards her was a Healer-in-training.

The closer she came, the wider the trainee's eyes grew. Ginny cringed. She was hardly in the mood to deal with another adoring fan of Harry.

"Oh my, you're Ginny Weasley. I mean, Healer Blackwell told me to come check on you. But it's really—I mean, I can't believe—"

"I'm fine," Ginny said hurriedly. "Though if you could get me an Invigorating Draught, that would be great."

"Oh, of course!" The young woman nodded vigorously, sandy curls bobbing in eagerness. She reached into the side pocket of her robe and rummaged around. Several different colored bottles were pulled out and returned until with a triumphant "Aha!" the trainee handed Ginny a vial of clear yellow liquid.

She uncorked and downed the potion without hesitation, feeling like she'd swallowed sunshine. A sharp but not wholly unpleasant tingling sensation zipped down her center and zinged out to the tip of every toe and finger. Her eyes and mind snapped wide awake, and she leapt to her feet, knowing she only had a short while to act before the imminent crash.

A buzzing seized the trainee's attention, but while the young woman answered her vibrating compact mirror, Ginny took off for the nearest lift. Just before the metal doors closed behind her, she thought she heard the trainee's voice calling her name from around the corner, but she didn't linger to find out. All too likely, the woman wanted something trivial like an autograph or a chance to chat some more. Ginny had been plagued with the type all through her volunteering months once the Prophet revealed Harry's relationship status, and she neither had the time nor was she in the mood to deal with another one.

To her embarrassment, her hand trembled ever so slightly as it pushed the undisclosed number combination for the ECZ's floor—the extent of her stunt with the Aurors finally sinking in. Just how much trouble was she in? Ginny shook her head and sternly told herself to get a grip. Nothing she did was indefensible, and the longer she dragged this out, the more suspicious her actions would be viewed. Still, she could not fully shake the creeping doubt at the edge of her thoughts. Truth was on her side, but would they listen?

_Enough._ She pushed aside the unpleasant thought that her reputation could've been undone all in a single night and concentrated instead on the immediate steps she needed to take.

The ideal direction might be to head back to the Auror offsite base she'd come from, but she didn't have a clearer idea of its location to pull it off, nothing beyond the vague impressions of that initial room. She hadn't even known that the place existed prior to a few hours before. Obviously, the knowledge was one kept from the public. She supposed it made sense that they'd have an operations center where Aurors could be called in and deployed quickly, especially in times of crisis, instead of suffering through the intensive security procedures at the Ministry, which remained heightened after the war and had been further tightened after the recent Death Eaters' prison break. Or perhaps taking her and Malfoy to the offsite base first had been a precaution against any hidden infiltration plans. Whatever their reasons, it'd proved (hopefully) fortunate for Malfoy.

Automatically, her thoughts strayed back to the blond, wondering how he was faring. It remained incredible that she found herself concerned with him, but then again, nothing within the last twenty-four hours had been remotely normal. Regardless, her best bet at the moment was to head to the Ministry and explain to Law Enforcement what had happened.

Turned out, she didn't have to. When the lift arrived at the ECZ and the doors slid open, she found half a dozen Aurors waiting for her, wands drawn.

Before she could even open her mouth, they disarmed her while simultaneously shooting her with a Full Body-Bind Curse. Her limbs snapped together of their own accord, but before her rigid body could crash to the floor, two Aurors had rushed in and dragged her from the lift. Having expected their aggressive response, Ginny took it with relative calmness, all things considered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the startled, disbelieving faces of Edna and the hospital guards. If not for the gravity of how much shit she was in, their reactions would've been rather comical.

This time, the Aurors took no chances. Two rings of light, thicker than the magical shackles they'd put on her before, clamped around her entire body, squashing her immobilized arms even tighter to her sides, almost to the point of pain. Two more went around her legs—upper and lower.

Another Auror approached with a Probity Probe, scanned her, and pocketed the compact she'd been given. They then blindfolded her while ignoring Edna's frantic questions, and soon after, she felt the crush of Apparition. No sooner had her body solidified then she was levitated and pulled along. Aside from a brief order for someone to inform the Head about her capture, the Aurors remained unnervingly silent.

Time crawled with nothing but her worries and doubts to commandeer her attention, but at last, she felt her body righted. The stiffness thawed from her body when the Body-Bind was lifted. Forceful hands on her shoulders pushed her into a chair. Accompanied by a clanking sound, metal bands slid coldly over her lower arms, shackling them to the chair's armrest while more bands held her calves against the legs of the chair. Another one went around both thighs, securing her to her seat.

"And what of Draco Malfoy?" asked a gruff, angry voice she recognized as Robards.

"Still at St. Mungo's, sir, undergoing a healing. The hospital said it can't be interrupted. He's not stable enough to be removed at the present time."

Robards growled in displeasure. "Fine. Just make sure he's under strict surveillance in the meantime. And make sure Aurors are stationed at every exit. You're dismissed."

Ginny heard the thump of a door closing, and only then did they remove her blindfold. She blinked to clear her vision and met the furious gaze of Gawain Robards, who was standing across the table from her. He was flanked by Auror Savage and Kendrick Salamander, an interrogation specialist she remembered from his heavy involvement in the war trials.

Even armed with the knowledge that she was innocent, Ginny couldn't entirely quell the nervousness squirming in her stomach as her eyes swept over the small spartan space with its dreary grey walls—undoubtedly, an interrogation room. Her reflection, pale and exhausted, stared bleakly back at her from the large two-way mirror mounted behind the Aurors.

She took a deep breath, and with far more calmness and confidence than she felt, cut straight to the point.

"I know what it looked like, but I can explain. It's most definitely not what you think."

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

Next chapter is already fully written and sent off to my beta. Hopefully that buffer will allow me to keep updates not so far apart as they have been. I've enjoyed writing this story very much, but alas it's very hard to find free time to write when you're a college student with many other competing obligations. Thank you very much though for all your interest and encouraging comments this past chapter. I'm starting to juggle a lot of plot pieces now for this story, but hopefully I can keep it going to your satisfaction. If you have any comments, questions, or speculations - please, fire away.

A big thank you as always to TheSecretAdmirer for beta-reading this.


	11. Chapter 11: A Plaything of the Mind

**Chapter 11: A Plaything of the Mind**

The fury did not leave Robards' eyes, but he merely nodded at Salamander to proceed. The younger wizard flashed a smile that, aided by his boyish good looks, was meant to disarm her, but there was a cunning in his blue eyes that Ginny knew was not to be underestimated.

"Ginny Weasley, I believe we've met. Forgive us our precautions, but we'll have to check you over first. Standard procedure these days. I hope you'll understand."

She nodded at him impatiently. He and Savage drew their wands and proceeded to probe and prod at her, checking for magical disguises yet again. When that came up negative, Salamander procured a vial of what looked like purple sludge and made her swallow the sulfur-smelling, throat-burning concoction just to be sure. Even still, they pricked her for a droplet of blood and did a lineage test. A check for the Imperius Curse followed, and she had to bite her tongue to hold back a retort.

By the end of the examination, Salamander and Savage's eyes openly stared at her in disbelief. They'd probably been hung up on the conviction that someone else had cleverly masqueraded as her. Robards had ceased to glower but any further reaction was hidden behind an emotionless mask.

"Now will you give me a chance to explain?" she asked, fists clenching in irritation. At their mutual nods, she launched straight into a summary of her horrific night without a clue how it'd be received when she hardly believed it herself.

Her retelling began calmly, her wording succinct and clear, but part way in, it unexpectedly derailed. The memories seemed to fill up the cramped room, playing out before her eyes as if they had taken on a life of their own.

Silent screams and the crunch of her own bones. Visions of red, smearing walls and coating her hands. A cloying, metallic stench smothering her airways. Ginny's fingers dug into the rough wooden armrests to stop her trembling arms as sweat broke across her brow and slid frostily down her cheek. She choked on her words, half-afraid she'd hurl them back up with the rest of her stomach's contents.

She knew this feeling, knew it as well as one could recall the precise, ghastly details of a recurring nightmare.

Across the table, her interrogators stared back unblinkingly, eyes wide with incredulity even as brows furrowed at her abrupt silence.

"And then what happened?" prompted Salamander, his voice soothingly soft and encouraging, though hints of impatience leaked through. "The Muggle caught up to you and...?"

Words stuttered out of her mouth as if someone else was speaking. She felt oddly detached from her physical body, from her thoughts, even. Her words barely made sense to herself, and from the bewildered stares of her interrogators, they weren't doing much better. Somewhere in the jumble of her half-sentences, she heard herself mention losing control of her magic.

"I think he d-died." _I killed him._ Her voice of reason absurdly became Malfoy's, telling her over and over, _You only did what you had to do_. The Muggle would've killed her. Killed both of them. He pushed her to it. She wasn't to blame.

Another room. Another memory. A calming voice weaving through the sounds of sobbing. _"There, there, sweetheart. You're going to be okay. It wasn't your fault." _

_Stop flipping out._ But she couldn't stop, couldn't understand why it affected her so badly despite the situation having been out of her control. There were other memories at work that didn't bear thinking about.

Her mind struggled to push the troubling thoughts away as Healers had taught her to do in therapy sessions years ago. _Take a deep breath. It's over now._

The remainder of her story slipped hastily from her lips, filling in the rest of the night with broad strokes. She instinctively held back on the little detail that Malfoy had received prior warning from his mother, speaking only vaguely of accompanying Malfoy to check on his parents first as they only had one wand between them. If Mrs. Malfoy had learned of the pending arrest and merely acted to protect her son, Ginny couldn't begrudge her for it. After sticking with her through their ordeal, she wasn't going to pay Malfoy back by dragging his mum into his potential mess—at least, not if Narcissa Malfoy had nothing to do with it. As it stood, Ginny didn't know enough to decide either way.

Even Robards looked thoroughly stunned by the end of her tale. That shock soon faded as his expression turned dark as a thundercloud. With time to finally mull over her own story, Ginny was hit by a sudden realization. _Those_ _Muggles_. _How much did they really know about the wizards they worked with? And what if...what if there were even more of them? _She stared expectantly at the Aurors, thinking surely the thought must have occurred to them as well.

Salamander was first to speak. "If she's telling the truth then—"

"But how could this be?" Savage demanded. "There was only one Traced incident last night, and the wizard in question gave us an entirely different story." He spun to face Robards directly. "I can't believe this. If his story is invalidated, then our only hold on Malfoy and _only_ lead in this entire Death Eater debacle is _gone_."

She sat up straighter, as much as her restraints allowed, her interest in the criminals' scheme to defend their Trace fiasco piqued.

"What did he tell you?" she asked.

"That's not for you to know," Robards said sternly.

"Fine, then. But whatever the story is, he's clearly lying." She raised both her eyebrows in what she hoped was a blatant expression of _don't be stupid_.

Robards scowled. "His memory checked out, and he was willing to go under Veritaserum if need be. So one of you must be lying, and rather elaborately at that."

"Well, who are you going to believe? A Weasley who fought on the Order's side in the war or an ex-criminal who'd have every reason to lie to you?" All traces of her earlier anxiety evaporated in the rising heat of her irritation. How ironic that she now found herself echoing Malfoy's earlier sentiments; if this was the best their law enforcement could do, then it was a wonder Wizarding England was still standing.

The thought set off a fresh flare of worry at the reminder of the blond. At least the Aurors hadn't been able to interrupt the healing he'd needed. Then again, if it had been that bad—

A door slamming snatched her attention back to the present. Her eyes widened in shock to match their sudden visitors. Spilling from the doorway into the room was the Minister of Magic—a bug-eyed Kingsley Shacklebolt—along with Harry, Ron, Hermione and both her parents.

"What is the meaning of this?" thundered Shacklebolt. At the same time, the rest cried out, "Ginny!" and rushed to her side.

Pandemonium erupted. A livid Robards shouted at Harry—something about suspension and cowardly abusing his hero status. She didn't catch much more with her mum awkwardly attempting to squash her into a hug while she was still firmly secured to the chair.

"Ginny, oh, Ginny. We thought you had—" the rest of her mum's words dissolved into tears.

Overwhelmed, Ginny tried to reassure her mum that she was all right, but she doubted she could be heard over all the simultaneous shouting in the room.

Through the din, her father was demanding her release. She barely recognized his voice, he sounded so livid. Meanwhile, the exchange between Harry and Robards was escalating with Shacklebolt interjecting in-between. Ron, in contrast, remained silent, his hand gripping her shoulder uncomfortably tight while Hermione hovered nearby, her rapid fire questions adding to the cacophony.

Some time past, and though the madness around her continued, her shackles retracted back into the chair. She leapt up immediately, relieved to be free, but instantly her mum pulled her into a nearly-suffocating hug, still crying and speaking frantically through her tears. "Oh thank Merlin. Harry said he saw you, but it couldn't have been you, and then—and then you were _gone_. He checked back home thinking someone must have just been impersonating you for Rowena knows why, but you were gone. Gone! When he came by and told us, I just about…how—how could you just run out like that, Ginny? For Merlin's sake you're _of age_. You ought to know better!"

"Mum! Mum, I'm fine." Though guilt weighed on her for causing her parents distress, Ginny prickled with an all too familiar irritation at being coddled and scolded like a child. Despite the terror she'd endured last night, she found herself drawing assurance from the fact that she'd made it through. Not entirely on her own, perhaps, but she'd certainly _held_ her own with a strength her family and Harry didn't seem to believe her capable of. She found herself wishing fervently that they did. How much easier on her, on _them,_ if that was the case. Maybe then they wouldn't go ballistic as soon as she was out of sight.

When her mum finally released her, it was her dad's turn. Mercifully, he didn't add to his wife's scolding but simply held Ginny tight with a single soft and breathless, "Oh, Gin-bug."

"I'm sorry I made you worry," she replied, sincere but unable to keep the frustration from leaking through, "but I'm fine, really."

She understood her parents' fear, yet she wished they could see that she couldn't live her life bound by that fear. Surely she wasn't that naive, helpless little eleven-year-old anymore.

Her dad let her go, making way for Harry. He stared at her, and she stared back. They were less than a foot apart, and yet she felt herself thrown back to when she was ten, watching his face as the Hogwarts Express carried him away, miles and miles growing between them by the minute. The room had fallen silent without her noticing, and a quick glance told her that the Aurors and Shacklebolt had taken their vehement discussions elsewhere. Her family had also quieted, glancing in confusion between the two of them.

Harry finally closed the gap, reaching out with slightly shaking fingers to touch her cheek.

"I really thought you had…" His voice was trembling too, and it tore at her insides to hear it. He cared, and he had worried about her—she knew that without a doubt. But then his eyes turned hard and his tone heated. Even before the accusations flew from his mouth, she was freshly reminded why she'd been so angry and hurt by him just a day ago.

"I heard the gist of what happened. You could have been _killed_, Ginny. Why didn't you listen? When are you going to stop being so stupidly stubborn and prideful? This isn't only about _you. _God, before you pull another stunt like that, would you please, for once, think about—"

"Like you're so great at listening yourself?" she snapped, pulling back from his touch.

"Ginny!" admonished her mum, undoubtedly shocked by her daughter's insolent tone.

"Harry," Hermione urged, "this is Ginny you're talking to. You mean well, but you're going about it the wrong way. And Ginny, Ginny you must know he's only acting out of concern for you."

"Of course I know, but that's no excuse," Ginny snapped.

She knew by the stubborn set of Harry's jaw that whatever he said next would only escalate their exchange into another row, but they were interrupted by an Auror bursting into the room. The dark-haired witch rushed at Ginny and handed her the white compact from Healer Clarke while speaking rapidly.

"You're wanted at St. Mungo's. The Healer said it's critical. I'm to escort you there immediately—Robarts' orders. We need Malfoy alive."

_No._

The order rankled her, but there wasn't time for petty arguments. In her wandless state, Ginny couldn't just take off on her own either. This in mind, she wordlessly followed the Auror from the room with everyone else on her heels.

"Ginny, what is going on?" cried her mum from behind her.

Even closer came Harry's voice. An angry heat still underlying his words. "I don't trust this one bit. Bloody hell, it's _Malfoy_. What could they possibly need you for?"

She ignored them all and ran full-out behind the Auror through the unfamiliar stone corridors. The place might have been more of the Aurors' offsite base from earlier or maybe somewhere else entirely.

Behind her, she heard the drift of her dad's voice trying to calm her mum's increasing hysterics. Robards called out to Ron and Harry with thunderous threats of permanent expulsion. She didn't wait to see if they listened nor did she wait to explain anything further to her parents or even check if they were even keeping up with her. The moment the Auror told her they'd arrived in an Apparition Zone, which simply looked like a small office, she grasped the witch's hand without hesitation and let herself be Apparated away.

Everyone present in the ECZ, from the stationed Aurors to Edna and the regular hospital guards, started at the sight of her, eyes springing wide and white. Her Auror guide had barely begun to explain the situation when Ginny whipped right past and slid into the lift without so much as a greeting to anyone.

"Come on, come on, come on," she urged as if verbal encouragement could speed the lift's arrival. She wished she could contact Healer Clarke in the meantime but knew the compact she'd been given was only one-way. It was so relations of patients could be informed of any critical updates, not for people to be able to pester the Healers.

Her nerves were so tightly wrung she physically jumped when the lift at last dinged open for her floor. The run to the healing room reminded her too vividly of the desperate dashes of the night before. Except this time, she was alone.

The compact in her hand buzzed, and she flipped it open while running. Healer Clarke's voice could barely be heard over the blood pounding in her ears.

"Ginny? Are you there?"

She tilted the mirror, and his haggard face leapt into view. "Just got to your floor. I'll be there soon."

"Do you have any way of contacting the Malfoy family? We've tried the Floo, but it apparently has been blocked."

She didn't like his harried tone one bit. "I don't think they're at home, anyway. And no, I've no idea how else to reach them."

"It's down to you then. Hurry, I'll explain when you get here." With that, the Healer's face winked out in the mirror.

Ginny doubled her running efforts, barreling through two more corridors before spotting Healer Clarke exiting the Epsilon room. She approached him at a breathless shuffle, unable to pull anymore speed from her screaming muscles and burning lungs. The imminent crash from the earlier potion had begun to turn her limbs into lead weights.

Before she'd even gathered enough breath to speak, Healer Clarke took one glance at her and conjured a vial of electric blue liquid out of the air.

Trusting his judgment, Ginny downed the potion without question. The bitter concoction shot through her painfully like a series of simultaneous static shocks but left her nearly jittery with overflowing energy. She whistled softly in appreciation.

Healer Clarke nodded grimly in return. "Prescription strength, and you'll likely need it. Please come in."

On edge, Ginny followed the Healer through the glowing blue door.

The concentration of magic inside was so thick that the air felt nearly solid, like she was trying to breathe through the press of a blanket. The hum of energies vibrated through the space with a sound more felt than heard. She could smell it too—a sharp and metallic tang that prickled her nose and wouldn't let up. Everything else about the room only unsettled her further.

Floating glass globes above bathed the space in a bright but cold light that did nothing to dispel the ominous air permeating the obsidian tiled walls, whose darkly glittering surfaces were inlaid with numerous precious stones from quartz to agates and emeralds—all having been chosen for their various healing and magic-strengthening properties.

Such a setup hadn't come cheap, and it left her stunned. How could a Muggle weapon have necessitated all this? She'd never been in this particular room before but knew of its kind—a dedicated healing room that was among St. Mungo's newest and most expensive additions which had been made possible, ironically enough, by a substantial donation from the Malfoys a few years back. Though she doubted they'd ever thought back then that any of them would end up in such peril as to have need of the room.

Presently, she couldn't see Malfoy due to a navy curtain that spanned the room, leaving only a narrow strip of grey slate flooring on her side.

"I don't understand," she said, instinctively keeping her voice hushed. "Did Malfoy's magic react badly to the bullet? I've heard of magical allergic reactions, but—"

Healer Clarke shook his head. "There's not enough time, so I'll have to explain the specifics later. Now tell me, was anything done magically to treat his wound before you got here?"

She could feel the blood drain from her face, wondering if she'd made a fatal mistake. "N-nothing much. I gave him a Sedative Spell when he was in pain and a smaller grade anesthetic before that. I didn't trust myself to do more."

"Anything else? How often did you refresh the pain control?"

"Just the once. He was using Occlumency methods before that to control it."

The Healer blinked, eyes wide. Again he seemed to be muttering more to himself than to her. "Yes, _yes_, that might just have done it..."

She heard a rustle and turned to spot Healer Blackwell emerging from the curtains with her wand tucked behind her ear and looking more frazzled than ever.

The witch let out an aggravated breath but visibly brightened at the sight of Ginny. "Oh good, you're here. Any new insights, Clarke, or should we have her give it a try anyway?"

"It's extraordinary. Ginny tells me he was using Occlumency to block the pain."

"And that would mean..._oh_. You think—?"

"Exactly."

"So it won't entirely be a crapshoot then. Thank Merlin."

Ginny looked between the healers in frustrated confusion, but Healer Clarke didn't leave her in the dark for long.

His blue eyes focused on her once more. "We were stunned that your friend has lasted so long given how quickly the previous case went."

_Previous?_ But of course it wasn't the time to have her million questions answered.

"It's an exceptional skill your friend has if indeed his Occlumency was enough to keep him alive. But if so, I suspect it may now be interfering with our efforts to heal him."

Healer Blackwell chimed in, "We've been throwing everything at it, but the enchantment is still spreading through him, however slowly. If the barriers he put up to block the bullet's effects are still being subconsciously maintained, then it might just be blocking our healing magic as well."

_What? How...? _Her mind was still reeling as Healer Blackwell continued, "Even before knowing about the Occlumency, we've been trying to reach through to your friend on the off-chance that having him awake might make a difference. Unfortunately, he's proven to be too far under. However, if the Occlumency theory holds, then we just need you to break through to his subconscious. That may just be enough."

She felt her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. "_Me?_ How can I do it if you can't?"

Healer Clarke proceeded to explain, "For the procedure in question, having familiar ties to the subject has often resulted in a much greater success rate. That's the theory behind it, at least. The procedure is still undergoing testing, but the results so far have been extraordinarily promising."

His optimism was hardly reassuring, particularly given how severely mistaken he was about her and Malfoy.

"We don't actually know each other that well. I barely knew him when we went to school together."

The Healer pinned her with a determined gaze. "Since we can't reach his family, you'll at least be a step above us."

"Surely there's someone else!"

"I'm open to suggestions, but they'll need to be able to come here within the hour." His eyes darted anxiously to the curtains. "The sooner, the better, before the enchantment spreads to more critical areas."

Her mind ran frantically through the possibilities. What family did he have beside his parents? She knew no other Malfoys, and on the Black line, even if Andromeda Tonks wasn't still estranged from the Malfoys, she was no longer in England; the memories had been too fresh and raw for her to stay. As for friends...Ginny combed through vague memories for the faces that hung out with Malfoy at Hogwarts, but that was before his family had turned against many of theirs. She knew many Slytherin students Harry's year had simply up and left, fleeing the now infamous legacies of their families.

"There's no one else," she breathed out, strangely floored by the realization.

In her mind, Malfoy had remained the Malfoy from Hogwarts all this time, popular among the Slytherins and aggravatingly self-assured of his high place in the order of things. Was he truly so isolated, so alone these days? A strange feeling swept through her. Whether it was pity or sympathy or something else altogether, she was neither keen nor had time to identify, so she quickly brushed it aside as another idea occurred to her. "Wait, I do know other people who have interacted with him more than I've ever had, though much of it wasn't friendly. Still, wouldn't they be a better option?"

"Not if the relationship was largely antagonistic. Not in our experience. I suppose this means you're his best bet at the moment. Of course, the decision is ultimately yours to make." He flicked his wand and a roll of parchment unfurled in front of her with an accompanying quill floating in midair. "Naturally, you'll have to sign the waiver form if you decide to go through with it."

"Despite it still being in testing, you really don't have to worry," Healer Blackwell assured. "The procedure is essentially a spell that allows your mind to connect to someone else's subconscious, similar to how a Legilimens can enter a conscious mind. As you can imagine, its capacity as a therapy tool is enormous, and we've only just begun to be explore the possibilities. The worse we've observed in terms of side-effects are temporary headaches and general exhaustion as it is a mentally and magically taxing effort if kept up for long."

Presenting it as a choice was laughable_._ As if she could just let Malfoy die now after all their brutal efforts just to survive the night. Like she could let anyone die if it was in her power to stop it. Never again.

With no better options springing to mind, Ginny signed without even bothering to read the form. They'd always exaggerated on these things anyway just to cover every possible complication that ever existed—from being stuck with dancing feet and burping up bubbles to bleeding orifices and death.

After the quill and parchment disappeared, the Healers cleaned her up and supplied her with several more potions for bolstering her energy and endurance before ushering her through the curtains. Once the apprentice Healers had stepped aside to make way, there he was in her line of sight.

They had him lying on his stomach on a white, altar-like slab of rune-covered marble, resembling a human sacrifice in the rituals of old. He'd been stripped bare except for a grey pair of hospital-issued trousers. His head was turned to one side, his face pale and slack. A sheen of sweat covered every bit of his exposed skin. She could almost mistake him for dead.

But it was the sight of his back that had her inhaling sharply and breathing back out with a swear. There should've been only a bullet wound, a round and dark perforation on his right shoulder, but from it now spiraled a vein-like network, as if black ink had been forcefully injected just under his skin, the tendrils crisscrossing each other in every direction. They'd migrated down his entire right arm and were reaching out towards his opposite shoulder, down his back, and around his chest. Every few seconds, the ominous purple light she'd observed from before would ripple through his skin wherever the black veins touched.

The question tore from her lips. "What the hell is _that_?"

"A wicked piece of work as you can tell," Healer Blackwell replied as she guided Ginny onto the thinly padded stretcher that had materialized to Malfoy's left, abutting the marble slab, "and not so easily explained in so little time."

"We'll tell you what we know when this is over, I promise. We'll have some questions for you as well," Healer Clarke said before instructing her to lie down. "Ready? You'll want to grab his hand. We've found that the physical contact helps to stabilize the connection."

She nodded and turned on her side to face the pallid blond. Her right hand reached down to twine with his left. Despite its pallor, his skin radiated a feverish heat that seared unpleasantly up her arm. She tamped down the urge to let go and instead, bent her elbow, bringing their clasped hands upwards to settle more comfortably between them.

While the Healers murmured procedural jargon to each other, she continued to stare incredulously at the joined hands before her and at Malfoy's closed eyes only a couple inches away. Weird didn't even begin to cover it, which seemed to be the running theme for her lately.

_When you wake up—and you better—you owe me big time, Malfoy. Don't think I'm going to let you forget it. _She had to inwardly laugh at herself. It figured that making a silent threat would be a calming balm for her chaotic thoughts.

"All right, we're ready on our end, Ginny," Healer Blackwell said, smiling reassuringly down at her but the strain between the Healer's brows betrayed her concern. "Have you ever tried Legilimency before?"

"Yes, but I'm no expert." The D.A. members had only practiced it to help each other improve their Occlumency.

"The effect of this will be similar, but more intense. You'll feel much more submerged in the other person's mind. It can be intimidating, but try your best to stay calm. You'll probably break the connection the first couple of tries, and that is perfectly normal."

"So what do I do? Get in there, and then what?"

"Call to him. Get his subconscious to stir and react. We're hoping that will be enough. The mind can take any form if you're determined, but you'll also be battling with his. Just try to imagine a setting that works for you. The procedure is still in early testing, so unfortunately, we can't offer you a more concrete guide." The Healer's gaze turned apologetic.

Ginny blew out a breath and nodded her go-ahead. _Here goes nothing._

Healer Clarke's willow wand tip felt cool as he rested it against the center of her forehead. Opposite her, Healer Blackwell mirrored the action with Malfoy.

The Healers' mutual incantation drew on a much older language judging by its nonsensical and garbled quality—and lengthy as well, seeming to go on and on much like the spells of old as she lay there, straining with nervous anticipation.

Then all in a flash, it was done. The last sight she saw before going under was a tendril of light being drawn from Malfoy's forehead by Healer Blackwell's wand. The last sound was a clink of wood on wood, as the Healers' wands met in the middle. And the last thing she felt was a flare of blistering heat, its hottest point concentrated right in the palms of their joined hands.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

Whew, this chapter has been stuck in revision-limbo for a couple months now. Unfortunately, it can't be helped when both my beta-reader and I are uni students. But summer's here and I'm not traveling around as much this year, so hopefully that will mean more time to write! Looking forward to seeing what your reactions will be as the plot pieces are pulled together. For those interested, the Whispered Truth will also be getting an update this weekend - just some fine-tuning left for the next chapter.


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